Back on the Horse
by Tangerine53
Summary: Avonlea Summers, traveling all the way from Maine, leaves a troubled past behind her to move to Virginia City. While helping her adjust to frontier life, Little Joe falls in love with the young maid, but can he overcome her daunting past to win her heart?
1. First Impressions

Howdy, everyone! As my screenname implies, Bonanza is my favorite show of all time, and I don't think that will ever change. There's just something the Cartwrights have that nobody else does, you know? Being a writer (as we all are), it's about time I wrote a proper fanfiction for my favorite show to express my love for it. So, without further ado, enjoy! Don't forget to leave me a review if you read. I desperately crave any comments you may have on my writing, whether they be of encouragement or criticism. And, if you enjoy this fanfiction, I welcome any comments you may have on any of my other stories, should you choose to read them as well. If you check out my profile, you'll see that I have very eclectic tastes, so there should be something there for everyone, from The Chronicles of Narnia to the Fantastic 4. And now, let's travel together to my favorite place on Earth - the Ponderosa.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Back on the Horse<strong>_

**Chapter 1**

It had been a long trip, but the wide-eyed girl in the stagecoach didn't look a bit tired. The other passengers were attempting, quite unsuccessfully, to sleep, all except the tow-headed man seated across from her on the other side of the small vehicle. His eyes were fixed upon her form, which was oblivious to his lustful stare as it gazed out at the great country surrounding them. She held a handkerchief over her mouth to prevent the dust kicked up by the horses from clouding her lungs, but it was all she could do to keep herself from sticking her head out the small window. She had never seen land like this before; it was so rich, so bright, so alive, and so rugged. Of course, in her brief twenty years of life one could hardly expect that she would have seen such a sight, especially when she had previously claimed Maine as her home. She had been travelling for months, and, for someone who had barely stepped outside of her front door, the trip had been not merely overwhelming, but exciting as well. It was a pleasant turn of events from the past from which she so desperately desired to escape.

The neglected book in her lap fell to the floor, waking the other disgruntled passengers. The tow-headed man took this opportunity to bend at the waist and retrieve it for her.

"Thank you," she said with a grateful nod.

"My pleasure, Ma'am." He lifted a hand to the brim of his hat. "Where ya headed?"

"A town called Virginia City," she replied. "Is it much further?"

"'Bout twenty miles, I'd say."

A glowing smile flooded the girl's features instantly.

The man smirked. "You're not from around here, are ya?"

"Is it that obvious?" she laughed.

"Well, from the way you've been starin' out the window like it's the first time you've ever seen country like this, I'd say so."

"I've never seen anything like it." She turned her head once more to look out at the landscape passing her by, begrudging the man for momentarily distracting her from its beauty. "I mean, I've seen mountains, but none like these. They're so regal, so majestic."

"Once you live out here a while you don't stop to notice it."

"I don't see how that's even possible. I could look at something like this forever."

"What are ya doin' in Virginia City?"

"I'm coming to live with my grandfather," she said shortly.

"Well, then you'll get to look at it as long as you like."

She turned to look at the man and offered him a small smile.

"And, uh, if ya ever stop starin' at the scenery, I'd like to see more of yours."

Her face immediately hardened and she returned to the window.

"Ah, now, don't be that way, Miss. I meant no offense."

"I'm sure you didn't," she said briefly.

"It'd be hard for any man not to notice a body like yours."

The girl turned her head slowly to face him, eyes reduced to the size of two small slits, taken aback by his blunt observance. "Excuse me?"

"I just said you're very shapely, Ma'am."

"I may not be from around here, but that doesn't mean I don't know when I've been insulted."

"You misunderstand me. I meant it as a compliment."

"Thank you for retrieving my book," she said, ending the conversation abruptly and throwing her head back toward the window a third time.

The beauty of the mountains, melting with the golden sunshine that drenched the blue sky above, soon soothed her, but she refused to look at the tow-headed man again for the rest of the journey.

* * *

><p>William Gillis walked out to his rig, adjusting the tattered hat upon his head as he went. He bent to check the front axel, shaking his head in frustration. He'd completely forgotten to replace it before starting to town, but there was no time now. He'd have to risk it. The stage would be arriving any minute and he didn't want to keep his granddaughter waiting, especially since she had no word that he'd be late. Still, it was a glorious day, the perfect one upon which to introduce her to his world. The shining expanse above was cloudless and the April rains had coaxed the green grass to burst forth from below the earth in vivid color, shimmering under the sun's rays. He clucked at the horses and slapped them lightly with the reins, urging them into motion. The buggy rattled along uncertainly but didn't give out. As the horses trotted along, William couldn't refrain from whistling. Nevada Territory had never appeared so beautiful since the day he had moved there. Perhaps it was because he was seeing it through new eyes, seeing it through the same eyes as she was at that very moment. The air, normally so stale in his nostrils, flowed in and out of his lungs as a foreign refreshment.<p>

Suddenly the buckboard lurched and tipped. He had forgotten about the giant pothole in the road and driven right into it. He muttered several unsavory phrases under his breath as he jumped down into the road to check the axel. Sure enough, it was broken.

Another buckboard came into view on the horizon, making its way toward him at a leisurely pace. The driver pulled on the reins as it approached and stopped beside him.

"What happened, Bill?" Hoss Cartwright asked, observing the broken-down rig curiously.

"Oh, I wasn't payin' attention and drove right into this pothole, and my front axel's been weak for a while. I've been meanin' to replace it but I don't have time today. I gotta get to town, but I just cain't leave the horses."

"Lemme take a look. Maybe we can fix it up well enough to get to town so you can get that axel," Hoss offered, hopping down.

"Thank ya kindly, Hoss, but I'm in a hurry. My granddaughter's comin' in on the noon stage and I gotta be there to meet her."

"Oh, yeah, well, why don't you just go in with Little Joe and I'll stay here with the buckboard, see if I can fix somethin' up to get it to town."

"Are ya sure?" Bill questioned uneasily.

"Yeah, Bill, climb on up," Joe said from his seated position above them. "We wouldn't want ya to keep your granddaughter waitin'."

He looked from Joe to Hoss in trepidation but it only took him another second to decide. "You'd be doin' me a mighty big favor, boys."

"Think nothin' of it," Joe returned as the man climbed into the rig.

"I'll meet ya in town when I get this axel patched up," Hoss said, and with that Joe hit the reins, and he and Bill Gillis took off down the road.

* * *

><p>"Looks like we're right on time, Bill," Joe said satisfactorily as they rode into Virginia City just in time to see the stage pulling into the station. He turned to look at the older man with a smile, surprised to find his companion's features much less excited; in fact, he appeared anxious. "Hey, what's wrong?"<p>

"I haven't seen my granddaughter in fifteen years, Joe, since I moved out here to strike it rich."

"I'm sure she'll be happy to see ya," Joe assured him, slapping him on the back jovially.

"She's a woman now, Joe."

"Ah, things might be a little different now that's she's grown, but I wouldn't be too worried about that." He stopped the buggy in front of the post office and they walked up to the red box on wheels as the passengers filed out – the tow-headed man, an older couple, and a stunning young woman in an emerald frock with a matching bonnet, adorned with two white feathers, resting delicately upon her rich, auburn tresses.

Little Joe was immediately taken aback by her deep brown eyes, which snapped with anticipation as she alighted from the stage. He was oblivious to the fact that his legs had ceased to move, and simply stood gaping at her cherry-colored lips, which broke into a dazzling smile as her grandfather approached her.

"Grandpa!" she cried jubilantly, throwing her arms about his neck.

"Is that you, Avvie?" Bill chuckled and squinted at her a moment before squeezing her tight about the waist, then pulling away to take a good, long look at her. "I'm glad you knew it was me, 'cause I'd never a known it was you."

"It's been a long time."

"Too long," he countered.

She nodded.

"Well, let's get your bags. I want ya to meet a friend of mine. Little Joe!"

At the mention of his name, the young man snapped back into action and hurried over to meet Bill's granddaughter.

"This here's Little Joe Cartwright, Avvie. My rig broke down a couple miles outside a town and he drove me in so's I could meet ya. I couldn't be late for that, now could I?"

The pretty maid blushed at the kindness of her grandfather's words.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr. Cartwright. I'm Avonlea Summers." She extended her hand.

"The pleasure's all mine, Ma'am," he replied, gently lifting it to his lips.

The color that had been fading from her cheeks instantly returned, putting her previous blush to shame with its redness. She withdrew her hand and turned her face away, embarrassed at the overt expression of her immediate attraction to this man.

"Lemme help ya with your bags," he offered as the driver lowered a large valise and two bulging carpetbags onto the platform.

"Thank you, Mr. Cartwright."

"Just call me Joe, Ma'am," he corrected with an assuring smile.

"All right, but only if you call me Avonlea."

"You've got yourself a bargain." He winked at her, causing her cheeks to flame conspicuously once again, and then proceeded to lift her luggage and load it into the buggy.


	2. An Invitation

Well, here comes chapter 2! I wanted to thank all the readers I have so far, especially the few reviews I've gotten. Reviews mean the world to me, so keep 'em comin'! That goes for the rest of you too. I really love to know what my readers are thinking about my work. If any of you have a specific question, I would be glad to answer those at the beginning of each chapter, as I am about to do right now. Anyway, enjoy the next chapter and don't forget to REVIEW!

Anna: I was a little shaky on how to write that beginning scene as well. I thought he came off a little "too" forward, if you know what I mean, but at the same time, there are brutes everywhere and in any time period. I find it believable "enough," but just airing on the side of being a little less than accurate. But yes, I did think twice about how to word that and finally decided to quit banging my head against the wall and just leave it as it was. LOL.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Hoss strode into the hotel and through the lobby into the restaurant. He tipped his hat back on his head and surveyed the room, eyes finally settling upon Little Joe, Bill Gillis, and his charming granddaughter all seated around a small table.

"Well, Bill, looks like you're all fixed up with a brand new axel," he said, sidling up to the table.

"Hoss, you shouldn't a done that."

"Well, you can pay me back by introducin' me to this pretty little filly right here."

Bill smiled. "This is my granddaughter Avonlea Summers. Avvie, this is Little Joe's brother Hoss. Have a seat; we were just about to order."

"My grandfather's treating us to lunch," Avonlea added good-naturedly.

"That's mighty kind a ya, Ma'am, but we gotta be gettin' back to the Ponderosa. C'mon, Joe, we gotta get that feed from Bert. Pa'll be expectin' us in another hour or so."

"Hey, that's a good idea, brother. Why don't you do that and I'll join you when we're done here?" Little Joe suggested.

Hoss gave him a stern glare. "Now, Joe-"

"Ah, you don't need my help, Hoss."

"That ain't the point. Pa don't want us dilly-dallyin'. Now, c'mon." He turned to Avonlea. "It's nice to meet ya, Miss Summers. I'm sorry we gotta be goin'."

"That's all right, Mr. Cartwright," she assented sweetly as Joe stood grudgingly and set his napkin on the table.

"We'll have you out to the Ponderosa real soon, Avonlea," he promised, taking her hand and kissing it once again in farewell. "You haven't seen Nevada Territory 'til you've seen the Ponderosa."

Hoss nodded. "We sure will, Ma'am."

Avonlea smiled tenderly from the big man to his smaller brother. "I'd like that. I wanna see every bit of this country that I can. It's so beautiful."

"It sure is," Joe agreed, but his thoughts were far away from the Ponderosa; they were right there, mulling over the picture of the creature in front of him, which was now permanently imprinted upon his brain.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe you pulled me outta the restaurant to help you load feed onto the buckboard," Joe sighed, lugging another large sack over to the rig and heaving it onto the pile.<p>

"We ain't in town to socialize today, Joe," Hoss reminded him.

"Who said anything about socializin'? You can't even make a lady feel welcome her first day in town."

"I got a funny feelin' you got a bit more than welcomin' on your mind."

Joe grinned wordlessly and continued with the task at hand.

"If you don't beat all, little brother." Hoss shook his head, shamefully attempting to hide his own smirk.

"You can't pass up a pretty gal, Hoss," Joe retorted in his defense.

"I reckon ya cain't at that. 'Sides, it's been a while since we had Bill out to the Ponderosa. I reckon Pa would like a visit with him."

"Now you're talkin', brother," Joe said, climbing up into the seat.

Hoss loaded the last sack of feed into the back and followed accordingly, taking the reins in his large hands and turning the horses homeward.

* * *

><p>Ben Cartwright turned as the familiar sound of the approaching buckboard reached his ears. "Well, it's about time you two got back," he said as Hoss brought the horses to a halt. "You're late. Any problems?"<p>

"No problems, Pa. We met Bill Gillis on the way into town. His wagon'd broken down and I fixed it back up for him. He was on his way to meet his granddaughter on the stage."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, she's comin' to live with him."

"Well, how 'bout that. I'm sure he's glad to have the company."

"I think Little Joe is too."

Ben turned to his youngest son and repeated, "Oh?"

"Hey, you shoulda seen her, Pa. She's got this bright red hair and sparkling brown eyes," Joe said, hopping down from the buggy.

"She's a real looker, huh?"

"She sure is, Pa," Hoss said as he and Joe began to unload the feed.

"Well, I reckon I'll have to meet this girl. We'll invite them for dinner tomorrow night," Ben decided with a grin.

"We kinda thought ya would," Joe chuckled.

* * *

><p>Avonlea Summers sat beside her grandfather in his newly repaired buggy, a warm apple pie in her lap as they drove down the road. Twilight had fallen on Nevada Territory, and the great canopy of stars above was beginning to shine through the dimming sky, its bright blues slowly fusing with the deep purples of night. The world was very still, and though the persistent sound of the turning wheels and horses' hooves drowned out the awakening chirps of the crickets, the night still fell quietly upon her. The soft warmth of the air caressed her, brushing up against her face as the back of a gentle hand and wrapping around her body like an eiderdown. It was as if the Earth itself were holding her, rocking her to sleep, and helping her to escape the misery within her heart. She looked up at the surrounding mountains, black against the darkening sky, and felt somehow comforted by their immensity.<p>

By the time they reached the Ponderosa she was a bit drowsy, having hardly exchanged a word with Bill over the course of the drive. She was content to merely sit there in the security of his presence and breathe in the night.

"Bill Gillis!"

The illusion of the soft night was shattered by a friendly, eager intonation. She turned her head to see a silver-haired man, surrounded by three other rugged figures, jovially shaking hands with her grandfather as he exited the buckboard.

"Howdy, Ben! I cain't tell ya how glad I am you asked us out here to supper. I'd plum forgotten what the Ponderosa looked like."

The men laughed – a good, hearty laugh that filled Avonlea's heart to the brim as she heard it echoing across the hills.

"And who might this lovely young lady be?" she heard Ben ask as he turned his gaze upon her.

"This is my granddaughter Avonlea Summers. She's come to stay with me, and I got a sneakin' suspicion she's the real reason you asked us to dinner tonight," Bill replied as he helped her down from the rig.

"We asked both of you," Ben assured him with a smile, taking Avonlea's hand. "I'm delighted to meet you, Miss Summers. I'm Ben Cartwright, and these are my sons. I believe you already met Hoss and Little Joe in town. This is my eldest son, Adam." He nodded toward the dark-haired man directly to his left.

She nodded with a simple smile at each of them in turn as they exchanged salutations.

"And what's this?" Ben observed the pie in her hands curiously.

"I made an apple pie. I thought it'd be appropriate to bring a dish of our own for the table," she responded meekly.

"Hop Sing's sure gonna be jealous," Hoss chuckled.

"Hop Sing?"

"He's our cook."

"Oh, we don't have to eat this tonight. It'll keep. I wouldn't want anything he's made to spoil."

"Don't worry, Avonlea. Between your pie and what Hop Sing's made for dessert we'll have plenty to go 'round, but I have a feeling if we don't start eating soon he won't be too happy," Ben chuckled, leading the group into the house.

"Here, lemme take that for you," Joe said, taking the pie from her hands.

She looked at him then, studying the curves of the pleasant smile on his lips all the way up to the kind twinkle in his eyes, and she smiled too, blushing just as she had upon their first encounter.


	3. Scarlet Ribbons

Well, here comes the next chapter. And yes, I am aware that "Scarlet Ribbons" is the same song that Andy (Wayne Newton) sings in the episode "The Unwritten Commandment" in season 7, and that the song "Sourwood Mountain" is one that the Bonanza cast sings on their album "Ponderosa Party Time." I've put several illusions to actual episodes in here just for giggles. For all of you who recognize them, enjoy! And PLEASE don't forget to REVIEW!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

By the end of the dinner, the four young adults were on a first name basis with one another, and everyone's cheeks were glowing with the robustness of an evening spent among good friends. After dessert the company moved from the table to the sofa where Ben poured a small glass of brandy for each and offered a toast to Bill and Avonlea's good health. It was then, as they sat around the hearth, that she noticed the guitar propped against the wall, at a safe distance from the fire.

"Do you play the guitar, Mr. Cartwright?"

"Oh, no, that's Adam's hobby, and, I might add, he's quite good."

She turned to look at Ben's oldest son with extreme interest.

"Avvie loved music when she was little," Bill said.

"Well, what would ya like to hear?" Adam asked, a merry smile overtaking his features as he reached for his guitar, delighted to have an excuse to entertain his guests with his favorite pastime.

"I don't know the kind of songs you sing out here," she chuckled, reticent to suggest anything the man hadn't heard himself.

"I wouldn't be too worried about that; I studied back east myself," Adam replied.

She smiled. "All the same, I'd be honored if you'd choose a song. It'll be wonderful to simply hear music again."

"All right." Adam strummed a few chords on his guitar indecisively, attempting to settle on a single tune amongst his own vast repertoire.

"How 'bout 'Sourwood Mountain,' Adam?" Little Joe said. "Then we can all sing along."

Avonlea's face lit up at the suggestion, and with several additional concurrences from the rest of the group Adam began to play. The lively song created an atmosphere of raucous enjoyment in the large house, and it was impossible for the girl to hold back her mirth. The song was a familiar one, and her voice soon joined with the men's, startling Little Joe into silence.

"That was fine," Ben sighed contentedly as the song came to a close.

"You have a beautiful voice, Avonlea," Adam added. "Perhaps you might indulge us with another tune."

"Oh, well, a-all right," she stammered, taken aback by the compliment as her eyes roved over the sea of avid faces wordlessly urging her to continue. She held her hand out to take Adam's guitar and he stared at her curiously.

"Do you play?"

"Only a little," she admitted, "but I can play my favorites."

He handed her the instrument and she took the piece of wood in her hands, careful not to get caught up in the revelry of simply holding it in front of her hosts. Then she began to sing a song well known to entire company – "Scarlet Ribbons." The lilting melody was perfect for a voice such as hers – tender and soft and sweet. It caressed each note before continuing to the next as if she were singing to a room full of children, lulling them to sleep with its melody, and, in that moment, Little Joe fancied that he could see her spirit shining through her eyes, gleaming with pure joy as she sang.

When she finished the room was quiet for several long seconds until Ben begin to clap, at which point the rest of the men joined in. It was as if the sudden, harsh thunder of the applause had awoken her audience from a lovely dream.

She smiled and placed the guitar back in Adam's hands.

"That was very nice, Avonlea," he said with an approving nod.

"I never heard anythin' so purdy. Ya sure can sing," Hoss agreed.

"Thank you, Hoss."

"I never knew you could sing like that, Avvie," Bill said.

"Well, the last time you saw me I couldn't," she laughed. Looking about the room her eyes fell on the silent Joe, who seemed to be tottering on the edge of the dream her song had created and the reality of his surroundings. Her features softened, the brightness of her face dimming to a lingering hue of happiness, and she stood as she announced, "I'd like to get a breath of fresh air."

Joe leapt to his feet instantly. "I think I'll join ya."

She smiled tenderly upon him, nodded, and walked out the front door into the warm night as he followed.

Out in the open air, Little Joe observed Avonlea at a distance as she walked up to the nearby fence, listening to the harmonious chorus of the crickets reverberating throughout the surrounding hills. Four chestnut-colored horses stood behind the barrier and she stuck her hand out to pet the nose of the one closest to her, humming "Scarlet Ribbons" as she did so. Little Joe approached softly and leaned against the fence.

"He likes ya," he said, indicating the horse with his head.

"He's beautiful," she remarked, "like everything else here."

"It's a nice night," he agreed with a contented sigh.

"I never knew the world could feel so free, so open. In Maine everything's so close together, like the mountains are closing in on you, but here the mountains seem to be just watching over the land." She looked up at the dark sky above. "I feel like I could see for miles."

"There's no lack of space out here, that's for sure."

She turned to face him then. "Have you lived here all your life, Little Joe?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Do you ever get tired of it?"

"Should I?" he chuckled.

"I don't see how anyone ever could; it's just something a man on the stage said to me."

"Yeah, well, I guess some people get restless, ya know? Every now and then I wanna pick up and go, but I get plenty a chances to do that here. Maybe it's just 'cause I don't know anything else."

Avonlea stroked the mare's nose once more. "I suppose we'd better go back in. It's getting late, and I'm sure Grandpa will be ready to go soon."

"Avonlea?"

She stopped where she had started for the ranch house and turned to see Little Joe hastening up to her.

"Now, I promised to show you the Ponderosa. Would ya like to go tomorrow?"

"Oh, I'd love to. I'm sure Grandpa wouldn't mind."

"All right then, I'll pick you up 'round noon," he said decisively, offering her his arm, which she accepted timidly, averting her eyes from his benevolent gaze as they walked back into the house.


	4. What's in a Name?

Well, here comes chapter 4. DON'T FORGET TO LEAVE A REVIEW! They are much appreciated. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

Avonlea smoothed her skirts before the small looking glass nervously. The clock on the wall indicated that Little Joe would be there any minute, and she couldn't get the picture of his affectionate smirk out of her mind. Throughout the preparations for the outing it had filled her with an uneasy giddiness, an emotion that was alien to her. Yes, she had had beaux back in Maine, but none that had made her feel the way she did when she looked into Little Joe's eyes. She found it rather astonishing that his mere gaze in her direction, coupled with a soft grin, captured her heart so and made her blush violently, forcing her to turn away. More than anything it scared her. She wondered if this was how her mother had once felt for her father, and the idea only filled her chest with more dread. What did she know about Little Joe Cartwright anyway? She had only met him two days ago. Her feelings couldn't possibly be anything more than an infatuation, one that would pass quickly enough, she imagined. Still, she had been unable to resist his offer to drive her about the Ponderosa, and the beautiful world he was about to show her wasn't the only reason. She had applied a scant tint of rogue to her cheeks, but then thought better of it, remembering the heat the man's presence conjured to her features uncontrollably. However, she did settle upon a bit of color for her pretty lips, for when she observed her face she felt as if it lacked something. She couldn't remember ever staring so tediously upon her reflection in her entire life.

"You look beautiful, Avvie," Bill said as she exited her room to find her grandfather walking in from the yard.

"Thank you, Grandpa."

"I cain't hardly believe it's you. You were just a little thing the last time I saw ya."

She smiled. "You look just the way I always remember you."

"Well, once ya get to be as old as me, ya stop changin'. Ya just get a little grayer every year, that's all."

She chuckled as the sound of horses' hooves pounded into the yard.

Bill hurried out the door, leaving it hanging open so Avonlea could peer out. "That you, Little Joe?"

"Yeah, Bill, just came to get Avonlea," Joe replied, hopping down.

Avonlea drew away from the door for a moment, apprehension coursing through her veins, but she hurriedly dispelled it and walked out the door to join the two men, who were shaking hands in greeting.

When Joe caught sight of Avonlea his hand dropped from Bill's and the bright smile on his face vanished. It seemed too boisterous an expression for such an exquisite vision, arrayed in a wispy white dress that moved with the gentle summer breeze as she approached him. Her hair was piled neatly upon the top of her head and she carried a small parasol that matched her dress in her hand.

"Good morning," she greeted with a vibrant smile.

Joe touched his fingers to the brim of his hat and returned his own welcome. "Are you ready?"

She nodded. "When you are."

"Well, we'd better get goin' then. There's an awful lot a the Ponderosa to see," he said, helping her up into the buggy.

"You take good care of her, Joe," Bill warned.

Joe chuckled. "Don't worry, Bill." He clicked the horse into action as Avonlea opened her thin parasol, and they started for the Ponderosa.

"What a day, huh?" he exclaimed presently as they trotted down the road at a leisurely pace.

"Yes, it is," she agreed, squinting up at the blazing sun shining relentlessly down upon them.

"Now, I been wonderin' somethin'."

She turned to him curiously.

"Just where did you get your name? I've never heard it before."

Avonlea giggled. "That's a story."

"We got time," he replied with a smirk, settling back in his seat.

"My mother's originally from Prince Edward Island; she only moved to Maine when she married my father, a year before I was born. When she was growing up, her closest friends were the Macneills. Mr. Macneill was a wonderful storyteller. I wish I had known him. He made up all kinds of places, and Avonlea was one of them. It was Ma's favorite. So, I guess you could say I'm named after a made-up town."

Joe laughed. "That's more interesting than mine. I think my mother just liked the name 'Joseph.'"

"What happened to your mother, Little Joe?" she asked timorously.

"She died pretty soon after I was born. I don't remember her."

"You're lucky," she murmured, turning away.

Joe only stared at her curiously, but didn't pry. He could tell from the fall in her voice that it wasn't a topic with which she felt comfortable.

"I'm sorry, that was a horrible thing to say," she said suddenly, whipping back around to look at Joe as if she had just realized the lingering sting of her words.

"It's all right. It's hard to miss somethin' you never had, but if I had the choice, I wouldn't even think about it. I'd rather have known her, no matter how much pain it'd be to lose her."

Avonlea simply stared at him, mulling his words over in her head. There had been moments since her mother's death that she had wished she'd never even known her if it would take away the ache in her heart, but Joe's words had given her a reason to revise her previous ruling on her emotions. What would her life have been like if she had never known her mother? She couldn't even picture it. She had no brothers or sisters, and her father had deserted his wife and child early in her childhood. Her mother was all she had had. To have grown up without her too seemed a fate worse than death, and she shuddered away from the nightmare before it could materialize.

"I spoke without thinking," she apologized.

Little Joe smiled good-naturedly, pulling the horses up beside a glittering pond. She had been so wrapped up in the conversation and her own thoughts that she had missed some of the scenery on the way there, and was surprised to find them pulling over so soon.

"One of my favorite spots," Joe said, nodding toward the pond.

He climbed down and walked around the horse to help her down, placing his hands on either side of her waist and lifting her up and out. She rested her hands on his strong shoulders as he lowered her, trying to remember the last time a man had lifted her out of a buggy, but it didn't much matter. His hands held her body securely between them, and she wished that her feet might never touch the ground.

Once on the ground, as soon as she had broken their long gaze, the world began to come to life all around her. She walked out from beneath the shade of the tree under which Joe had parked the rig to feel the heat of the sun upon her face, raising it heavenward. The wind had picked up slightly, and, as she had left her parasol in the buggy, her hair was unprotected from its gusts. They rippled past her, loosening several red strands, which collected about her face in large undulations. As she turned to the pond she noticed the reflections of the great trees about them dancing upon top of the glittering sheet of water. It shook pleasantly, bending willfully to the power of the breeze. She walked toward it, sitting down on a log by the bank as Joe followed her.

"Oh, Little Joe," she breathed, turning to him after a glorious period of wordlessness that was filled instead with the melodies of the birds overhead, "I've never seen anything so beautiful in my entire life."

"It's prob'ly the day," he chuckled.

She giggled, and the bliss upon her face sobered him as it had earlier that morning, and he said, "In fact, I know it is."

She tilted her head to one side in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You could never be a part of anything less than beautiful, and this spot has never been as beautiful as it is today."

He leaned in closer, as if to kiss her, but she turned away, too intimidated to hold his gaze. She couldn't remember what it felt like to kiss a man or to be kissed by one, and even the slightest hint that Little Joe had the same feelings welling up within him that were lurking within her own being filled her with a sense of unexplainable anxiety as they drew closer to acting upon them. She liked the tingling sensation that overcame her when he smiled sweetly upon her, and the blatant expression of attraction that had come with his words, but when it came to actually fulfilling these feelings she recoiled instantly.

"I-I'm eager to adapt to your way of life out here," she said, hurriedly grasping for a topic of conversation to bridge the awkward gap.

"Well, it shouldn't take ya too long," he said encouragingly.

"Would you help me, Little Joe?" She tossed him a cheery smile, her confidence restored.

"At your service," he teased, nodding his head to signify a bow. "What can I do for ya?"

"Well, I don't know how to ride a horse," she admitted sheepishly, suddenly becoming very interested in her hands.

Little Joe took them in his and she looked up into his face, startled. "We'll have to fix that. Ya can't live out here without knowin' how to ride."

"I've wanted to learn for a long time, but I never have."

"We'll start tomorrow then," he said with finality as her features broke into the brightest smile he had seen yet, and his heart palpitated as he stared upon her sun-drenched face, haloed in a ring of light.


	5. The First Lesson

Sorry it's been a few weeks since I updated. Things have been crazy busy for me lately. Anyway, enjoy this next little installment, and PLEASE REVIEW IF YOU READ! We're five chapters in and I'd like to know what everyone is thinking of the story so far. :) One little note!

Anna: I fictionalized the story behind Avonlea's name slightly, but I did do some research on it. Avonlea is a fictional place on Prince Edward Island that Lucy Montgomery (the author of the books) came up with for the Anne of Green Gables series. Since she wasn't even born at the time Bonanza is set, and her mother had either just been born or was about to be born (I can't remember), I decided to cast her grandfather in a sort of storyteller role, insinuating that he was the first one to come up with Avonlea, and that he, in turn, would have told stories to Lucy about Avonlea, and then she would have used the place in her writings. How my character fits in is that Avonlea's mother knew the family and fell in love with the name of the place as well as the stories he told. Pretty cool, huh?

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

"All right, Avonlea," Little Joe sighed pleasantly, leading two large horses out of the barn to meet his pupil. She was dressed in an elegant blue down trimmed with white lace, a pretty straw hat adorned with two pink azaleas atop her head completing the picture. She was lovely to look at but hardly dressed in attire appropriate for riding.

"Ya gonna wear that to go riding?" He smirked.

"What's wrong with it?" She looked down at her outfit, twisting about in an attempt to find fault with it.

"Oh, nothin's wrong with it; it's just a little too fancy for a ridin' lesson."

"Are you cancelling our lesson until I get some proper clothes?"

"Nah, it's only your first day. We'll take it slow."

"Good, 'cause I've never even been on a horse before."

"I'll have ya racin' across the Ponderosa in no time. Now, let's mount up. Ya always mount up on the left side of the horse so ya don't spook 'im."

She eyed the horse Joe had chosen for her and her lips lifted at the corners. It was the same chestnut mare she had taken such a shine to during her previous visit. He had a glossy black mane and matching tail and a single patch of white in the shape of a small diamond between his big brown eyes.

"Oh, Joe." She looked at the young man affectionately.

"I told ya he liked ya," he said. "I thought ya might like to try 'im out."

She placed a hand on the horse's warm side, feeling his lungs expand and contract beneath his heavy coat, and for the first time she was filled with a sense of tentativeness. She was about to sit atop a living being and trust it to bend to her will and authority. At the moment she felt none of this so-called authority over the graceful beast.

Little Joe studied her curiously as she withdrew from the horse, then smiled tenderly as realization hit, and he draped the reins in his hand over the post in the yard, saying, "Here, I'll help ya." He grasped the horn of the saddle to steady it and placed a hand on her back. "Put your foot right there, and just push yourself on up." He could feel her body trembling under his steady hand as she cautiously mounted the animal.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" He looked up at her with a generous smile and she returned it weakly, lips quivering, as he handed her the reins. He mounted his own horse then and turned in his saddle to face her. "Now, there's nothin' to be afraid of. He's only gonna go where you tell him to go."

She nodded listlessly as if trying to convince herself of his assuring words.

He smiled softly as he watched her gripping the reins for dear life, her knuckles white with tension. "Give 'im a little kick to get 'im goin'."

She looked up at Joe in horror. "Kick him?"

"Well, sure, how else do ya expect to get him to move?" he chuckled. "Unless you just wanna sit here all day."

"He won't get mad, will here?"

Joe's laughter only increased at this inquiry. "No, he won't get mad."

She squeezed her eyes shut and kicked the horse ever so slightly.

"A little harder than that, Avonlea."

With only a little more force the horse jolted into motion, and Avonlea let out a short shriek in response, eyes snapping open as she grasped the horn for dear life.

"He's only walkin', Avonlea," Joe said, coming up beside her and matching his horse's pace to her own. "Ya just need to relax. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

His countenance was soft and assuring, but more than anything it was confident. She felt foolish for worrying. He had lived on the Ponderosa all his life and had been riding since childhood. She could have chosen no better teacher. She allowed her shoulders to fall from their tensed position about her neck and readjusted her posture in the saddle, and slowly but surely she released her grip on the horn and held the reins a little less tightly between her fingers.

* * *

><p>When Joe said he'd take it slow, he meant it. The two did nothing more than trot about the ranch the entire afternoon. Though she felt much more confident by the end of their first lesson, Avonlea was still shaky on the horse. He felt it in her body as he helped her dismount.<p>

"You did very well," he said, smiling sweetly on her fatigued form.

"Don't lie to me, Little Joe," she returned with a weak grin, taking off her hat to reveal a bright mass of large red curls.

"Well, ya need a little more work," he assented, and the two chuckled together for a moment. "How 'bout I get Hop Sing to rustle us up somethin' to eat, or at least somethin' cold to drink?"

"That sounds wonderful."

He wrapped an arm about her shoulders and felt her shudder under the sudden motion, but she didn't pull away as he thought she might, the way she had when he had tried to kiss her. Instead, she walked into the house with him.

Ben looked up from the red chair in which he sat, reading. "Well, how did the riding lesson go?" he asked, standing.

"We'll make a rider out of her yet, Pa."

Avonlea felt her cheeks burning under his flattery. "It's gonna take a lot more time before that happens. Little Joe was very patient with me, but I'm afraid I'm a slow learner."

"Well, when a student's as lovely as you are, Avonlea, I doubt anyone would regard teaching you as an inconvenience, no matter how much time it takes."

"Thank you, Mr. Cartwright."

"Have a seat, Avonlea. I'll see if I can't get Hop Sing to fix us some lemonade," Joe said, offering her the couch with an extended arm before he hurried off to the kitchen.

"What were you reading, Mr. Cartwright?" Avonlea asked as she and Ben both took a seat in front of the large fireplace.

"_Moby Dick_."

"Do you like the sea?"

He nodded. "I was a seaman for a number of years, before I married my first wife."

"That's quite a change. What made you want to travel west?"

"I always had a dream of havin' my own piece of land, a big piece of land. I wanted to work it and build it up from the ground. I suppose every man has ambitions like those, to create something out of nothing and have a true sense of ownership."

She exchanged a smile with the older man across the coffee table.

"But what about you? From what your grandfather tells me, you've come out here to live with him due to your mother's passing. I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Thank you. She died of consumption in November. I've been travelling across the country ever since."

"What about your father?"

"He left when I was only three years old. I don't know where he is, or if he's even alive. It's been wonderful to come here and be so graciously accepted by your family. I never really had a family, only Ma."

"You have one now, Avonlea," Ben said, and as she gazed into the patriarch's kind eyes she felt, for the first time in her life, like she was home.


	6. Enter Clyde Johnson

Well, here comes the next chapter. It's a shorter one focusing mainly on Avonlea and Bill and their relationship, so I'm sorry for the lack of Cartwrights in this chapter, but I felt this little interlude was necessary for the evolution of their characters. Don't worry, the Cartwrights will be back. :) PLEASE don't forget to REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! I have one quick note.

Anna: As a matter of fact, Moby Dick _was_ published by the time this story takes place. Bonanza takes place in the mid-1850's and seems to progress into the early 1870's if I'm correct. Moby Dick was published in 1851, and yes, I did do the research on it before I put it in there. LOL.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

The first thing to do was buy some new clothes. After only one day in the saddle, however mild it had been, Avonlea now understood Little Joe's quizzical expression when he had first seen her garb for the lesson. None of the fine dresses or skirts she had worn back east would feel comfortable; she needed clothing that was lighter and more flexible – something she wouldn't be afraid to spoil with dust. An afternoon in town resolved the issue, and soon she was walking out of Lily Patterson's dress shop with and armload of packages.

"Why, Miss Summers, fancy seein' you in town today. Buyin' a new dress?"

She maneuvered her head around the boxes in her hands to see the tow-headed man from the stage smiling upon her with a gleam in his eyes that she found immediately repulsive and distasteful.

"Just a few things."

"Lemme get those for ya." He took the packages from her arms and walked with her to her buckboard, depositing them in the back.

"Thank you," she returned rather stiffly.

"I reckon ya ain't got time for some refreshment in the hotel," he said.

"I really must be getting home," she replied, climbing into the seat.

"Can I call on ya later?"

She merely stared at him for a long moment, unable to find her voice. She didn't know how to politely verbalize that she never even wanted to see him again. "Not tonight," she said finally.

"Well, when _can_ I call on ya?"

"I'm not sure, Mr. Johnson; I only just moved here. I'm still getting settled."

He continued to press the subject. "Well, if I dropped in some night it wouldn't be an imposition, would it?"

"I guess that would depend on the night you called," she said with a weak chuckle.

He laughed. "Well, I'll just have to risk it," he decided.

No sooner had he finished speaking then she hurriedly bid him ado and turned the horses toward the road leading out of town.

* * *

><p>As soon as she arrived at home, Avonlea hurried to the small room her grandfather had given her and threw the packages on the bed, untying the string around each box and displaying the outfits so she view all of them at once. She tried on each one in turn with a critical eye. Did the navy or sky blue blouse go better with the brown riding skirt, and did she really like the way the white blouse hung on her shoulders? She pulled the pins out of her hair so that it fell long and soft upon her shoulders and ran a brush through it. She tilted her head to one side, not quite sure what to make of herself. Slowly, little by little, an approving smile crept across her features.<p>

"Not bad, Avonlea," she told herself with a nod, walking out the door to start supper.

"Ya look mighty purdy in your new duds, Avvie," Bill said as he walked through the door and took off his hat.

"Thank you, Grandpa."

"Ya goin' ridin' again?"

She shook her head. "I just felt like wearin' my new clothes."

Bill smiled softly upon his granddaughter. "And why shouldn't ya when you look so purdy in 'em?"

"I think more than one compliment on the same outfit is more than enough," she teased.

Bill smirked and sat down at the table, observing his granddaughter as she moved from the cabinets to the pot she had just set upon the stove to start dinner. She was such a bright, beautiful little thing. The glorious flood of sunshine pouring through the nearby window, under which her red hair shone, touched her creamy white complexion, lifting a rosy hue to the surface, which was reflected in the happy curve of her mouth. She certainly wasn't five years old anymore. For the first time since his wife's death several years beforehand he felt the familiar presence of a woman in the home and it was soothing to his soul. He couldn't remember the last time the stove had been used. He had become accustomed to taking his meals in the Virginia City hotel and his drinks in the saloon. But, though Avonlea was young, her cooking was nothing to sneeze at. After years of tending to her mother through her bouts of failing health and being required to run the home alone, she had become quite a woman.

"Grandpa, do you know a man named Clyde Johnson?" she asked suddenly, stirring the stew.

"Yeah, he lives 'round here. Miner. Why, ya know 'im?"

"Not really, we were on the stage together and I saw him in town today. What's he like?"

"Well, I don't rightly know. We ain't never been introduced, but I always see 'im in the saloon. Don't s'pose he's doin' too good tryin' to strike it rich."

"He wants to call on me sometime," Avonlea said softly, looking out the window at the sun suspended just above the rising hills, preparing to make its way below the horizon.

Bill studied her carefully. It was obvious from her hardened jawline that she had not been flattered by the man's offer. "You don't look like ya want 'im to," he said.

"I don't," she said bluntly, turning to him.

"Did he hurt you, Avvie?" The man's muscles tensed.

She shook her head. "No, it's not that. He's just-" She paused- "not the kind of man I want."

Bill watched as her features softened and her eyes traveled to the window once again. He had seen that far-off gaze in her eyes before, if only in fleeting glances, and it was always cast upon young Cartwright. He smiled tenderly at her profile, growing darker in the fading light.

"I need to pay Ben Cartwright a visit tomorrow," he said. "Would ya fancy a ride out to the Ponderosa with me?"

Avonlea's face broke out into a brilliant smile. "I'd love it, Grandpa. The Ponderosa is so big and beautiful, and the Cartwrights are so kind."

"They've been good friends to me ever since I moved out here," Bill concurred with a nod.

Avonlea smiled softly as she set a bowl of stew in front of the old gentleman. "They've already made me feel right at home," she agreed, sitting down across from him with her own bowl.

"Do ya like it out here, Avvie?" Bill questioned eagerly.

"Oh, I love it. It's so beautiful and open, not like Maine."

He nodded. "It is at that."

"I'm glad you moved out here, Grandpa."

He looked at her curiously.

"I'm sorry we haven't seen each other in so long, but I'm glad to have a change of scene now. I couldn't have gone on living there without Ma," she elaborated.

"I know, honey." He reached out over the table and took her hand in his. "Your mother was a fine woman, but we're gonna make it, you and me. We're gonna be just fine."


	7. A Real Nice, Friendly Little Chat

Well, everyone, here's the next chapter. Things are going to start picking up really soon, so thanks to all the people who are loyally reading this, and I encourage you to keep at it. Even though this is a slower story by nature, there's definitely some action to come. So don't forget to read and LEAVE A REVIEW!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

"Howdy, Ben!" Bill called, pulling the buggy up to the Cartwrights' front door.

"Well, Bill, good to see ya. What brings ya out this way?" Ben asked jovially, looking up from where he and Hoss had been chopping wood.

"Avvie and me was out for a ride and we thought we'd pay ya a visit. 'Sides, I needed to ask your advice 'bout a horse I'm thinkin' 'bout biddin' on later in the month."

"Well, come right on in," Ben said, turning on his heel to proceed into the house.

"Uh, Mr. Cartwright."

He turned to Avonlea questioningly.

"I-is Little Joe here?" she stammered.

"I'm afraid he's not, Avonlea. He and Adam are fixin' a fence on the northeast side a the Ponderosa. They should be back this evening."

Avonlea's features drooped. She had purposefully worn her new navy-colored skirt with the white blouse in hopeful anticipation of revealing it to Little Joe. Her hair, always piled fashionably upon her pretty head on previous occasions, now hung delicately about her face with a matching navy ribbon threaded through it in yet another striking display of her beauty. But, evidently, it had all been to no avail.

Suddenly, her features brightened. "Is the horse I rode the other day in the barn?" she asked.

Ben cast a sideways glance at Hoss, who answered, "He sure is."

"Could I see him?"

"Well, sure ya can. C'mon." Hoss helped her down from the rig and walked with her into the barn. In the farther stable stood the pretty chestnut, and Avonlea hurried to him, leaving Hoss smiling tenderly in her wake.

"Joe told me you'd taken a fancy to 'im," he said, coming to stand beside her. "How'd ya like your first lesson?" He chuckled, and she joined in.

"Little Joe's sweet to be so patient with me."

"I got a feelin' he don't mind."

She colored and continued to pet the horse's head.

"Ya sure got a way with 'im. He don't take to just anybody. I was a little surprised Joe let ya ride 'im your first time."

"You didn't give me any trouble, did you?" she murmured affectionately in the horse's ear.

"Ya know, he needs a good brushin' down," Hoss started knowingly, expecting the immediate response he received as she breathed, "Oh, Hoss, could I do it?"

He smiled and reached for a nearby brush and handed it to her. "I think he'd rather you did it than me anyhow."

She smiled and took it from his him, and then she began to run it over the horse's coat. "You know, Hoss, I was scared sitting on top of him."

"How come?"

"I was scared I'd fall off."

Hoss studied the young woman quizzically. It never occurred to him that anyone could be scared of riding a horse; there was too much freedom in mastering the skill. He himself never felt freer than when he had finished the day's work slightly ahead of schedule and had enough time to take a ride around the ranch.

"You don't have to be scared a fallin' off, Avonlea," he said with a grin. "Once ya learn it's a piece a cake. 'Sides, none of us would ever let anythin' happen to ya."

"I don't think Wildfire would let anything happen to me either," she contended.

"Wildfire?"

"That's what I named him." She looked at the horse with pride and gave him a gentle pat on his left flank.

Hoss's look of confusion melted away instantly and he nodded in approval. "That's real nice, Avonlea."

"I think he likes it," she agreed, grinning now too.

Suddenly a stray dog that Hoss had been keeping around the ranch scampered into the barn, leaping up the big man's leg, begging to be petted. Hoss obliged with a chuckle as Avonlea watched with a bright smile, ecstatic when the golden dog rushed to her, sniffing her up and down to decide whether or not he dubbed her friendly. Almost immediately the dog place its front paws on her legs and whimpered.

"Hey, boy!" she exclaimed, kneeling down to rub the furry creature behind the ears and let him lick her face.

"Ya sure like animals, don'cha?" Hoss laughed.

"I love 'em. I had a cat when I was growing up, and there was a stray dog that came around the house every now and then that I gave scraps to. I'm glad they know I'm a friend."

"Ya got a way with 'em."

"What's his name, Hoss?"

"I call 'im Rover."

"Well, hello, Rover." She turned to the dog and allowed him to lick her nose, his entire body shaking with excitement. She giggled. "It must be wonderful to have so many animals. You're never lonely."

"Maybe for a little while, but no critter could ever make up for my pa or brothers," Hoss replied. "I'd be a might lonelier without them. I reckon everybody needs somebody."

Avonlea looked up at the big man from her position on the barn floor, pondering his words very carefully, and finally nodded in agreement.

When the two finally walked out of the barn, Adam and Little Joe were just riding up on their horses.

"D'ya get the fence fixed?" Hoss asked as his brothers dismounted.

"Until another squatter busts it up again," Adam sighed, taking off his hat and wiping his sweaty brow with his forearm. "It appears we have a visitor." He smiled upon Avonlea.

"Grandpa had business with your pa," she replied. "What d'ya think of my new riding clothes?" She spun in a circle before the men, her skirt lifting slightly upon the gust she created.

From the moment he had caught sight of her, Joe had been staring at her dumbly, completely oblivious to the sly smirk Hoss had cast in his direction. It wasn't often Little Joe found himself speechless, but if any occasion called for such a reaction, this one was quite appropriate. Her long hair, flowing freely about her face in giant curls that matched the color of her rosy cheeks, mesmerized the young man so much so that he missed his opportunity to compliment her.

"It's very becoming," Adam said instead, replacing his hat on his head.

"Why, thank you, Adam," she assented with a grin of pride pasted upon her face. She turned her gaze upon Joe expectantly then, and Adam and Hoss looked at their younger brother as well, eagerly awaiting his comment on her attire with expressions of subdued humor.

"Well, you, uh," Little Joe stammered, lost in her deep brown eyes, "ya look real beautiful, Avonlea." He drew closer to her then, and Adam and Hoss, taking the hint, exchanged knowing glances as they made their way inside, leaving the two standing in the middle of the yard.

"You really think so, Joe?" She looked down at her skirt. Suddenly she felt his hand underneath her chin, turning her face upward to hold his gaze once more.

"I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," he breathed, lips dangerously close to her own.

"Joe," she whimpered, her head twitching backward nervously and eyes widening as she saw his close, "I, I can't." She turned away then and his eyes opened confusedly.

"What's wrong, Avonlea?"

"I-it's getting late and I'm tired. Grandpa and I should be heading home," she managed to say, unable to meet his own brown eyes; instead, she examined the fading light about them intently.

Joe sighed and shook his head slightly. "I'll go see if he's ready," he said, then turned on his heel and walked into the house.

Avonlea sighed too and leaned against the fence, watching Little Joe's back disappear behind the front door. Why had she fought it? Why had she shied away from the very response she had desired? Why was she so afraid of giving into her own feelings? Frustration welled up inside of her, and as it did Hoss's words in the barn came back to her softly.

_Everybody needs somebody_.


	8. The Party

Well, this chapter is going to set up more the conflict that will continue throughout the rest of this story, so why don't we just get right to it? I know I say this every time I update, but PLEASE REVIEW! And now, enjoy the next chapter. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

Adam and Hoss, upon entering the house, hurried to the small window behind their father's desk, drawing back the curtains to watch Little Joe and Avonlea's interaction in the yard.

"How much ya wanna bet he kisses her?" Hoss said under his breath.

"That's no bet," Adam retorted. "Little Joe kisses every girl in sight. I'll bet ya she doesn't let 'im."

"I don't know, Adam. She seems pretty gone on 'im."

"Yeah, but she's also smart. She's not gonna give Joe what he wants without makin' 'im work for it."

"I'll bet ya a week's wages," Hoss said confidently.

Adam nodded in acceptance.

In no less than a minute, the bet was won and Hoss's muscles formed a regretful frown as Little Joe trudged into the house without the expected kiss. Ben and Bill, who had been watching the men curiously from their position on the couch, stood when Joe entered.

"Where's Avvie?" Bill asked.

"She's outside. I think she's pretty tired, Bill; ya might wanna take her on home. I told her I'd get ya."

"I reckon she would be at that. She's still gettin' used to livin' out here." Bill turned to Ben. "Thanks for the chat, Ben," he said as they shook hands, and, turning to Adam and Hoss, he nodded. "Boys."

"Bill," they returned, walking out the door after him.

Avonlea was already in the rig and bestowed a soft smile upon the quartet as they approached.

"Feelin' all right, Avvie?"

"Just tired, Grandpa."

"Well, we'll get on home so's ya can rest." Bill hopped up into the buggy and took the reins in his hands. "Thanks again, Ben."

"You come back soon," he replied with a wave as Bill slapped the horses into motion.

"Goodnight, Mr. Cartwright," Avonlea said.

"We'll see ya soon, Avonlea."

"Hey, we got a ridin' lesson tomorrow," Joe reminded her.

"I wouldn't miss it," she replied with a smile.

Joe smiled gently after her, but the wheels were turning a mile a minute within his brain. Just what exactly did she feel for him, and what was she so afraid of? In the mere week that he had known her the young man had developed strong feelings for her. Though he was viewed as quite the ladies man in Virginia City and had been responsible for flirting, quite harmlessly, with many women's affections, he had suffered his own share of heartbreak. He sometimes wished he were more like his older brother Adam, who never immediately attached his emotions to anyone and moved slowly through his romances, but he wasn't. His mother's passionate New Orleans blood ran through his veins, and Adam's levelheaded nature would always be foreign to him. He proceeded through most of his days with a dull ache in his heart, either over lost love or the desire to be in love again, but it wasn't as though he was insincere. He didn't want a simple distraction to boost his ego; he longed to find the one woman above all others whom he could hold and cherish and love for the rest of his days, and, as he watched Avonlea drive off, he felt that tug at his heartstrings that years of experience told him was more than a crush.

* * *

><p>Avonlea sighed as she followed her grandfather into the house. What a coward she was. Why couldn't she ignore her father's desertion of her mother and learn to understand that not all men were like him? Why couldn't she allow herself to fall in love? Why should she hang back, for she knew in her heart that there was nothing she had wanted more than to kiss Little Joe, to feel his lips pressed against her own. It had been so long since her last kiss that she had forgotten the sensation. But the mere fact that she desired to kiss this man more than she had ever wanted to kiss anyone, that her heart burned whenever he drew near, only made her withdraw even more, like a turtle into its shell.<p>

"I'll make a pot a coffee," she said, moving to the stove.

"That sounds fine, Avvie." Bill took off his hat as he sat down at the table and ran his fingers through his coarse gray hair.

A knock came on the door just as she was pouring him a cup. Avonlea set it before him and then answered the door, only to find Clyde Johnson standing on the other side.

"Evenin', Miss Summers," he said, immediately tipping his hat.

Her face hardened. "Good evening, Mr. Johnson."

"I told ya I was gonna call on ya some night. This ain't a bad time, is it?"

"As a matter of fact, my grandfather and I just got back and I'm very tired. I was just about to get ready for bed."

"Who's there, Avvie?" Bill called, and Avonlea heard his chair scraping along the floor and his footsteps drawing nearer. "Oh, Clyde, it's nice to see ya." He stuck his hand out to greet the miner.

"Howdy, Bill. How are ya?"

"Doin' just fine. What bring ya out here this evenin'?"

"Well, I came callin' on Avonlea actually. We met on the stage. Thought she might need someone to show her the ropes out here."

Bill eyed Avonlea in his peripheral vision, attempting to read her, but her face was void of any perceptible expression. "It's a little late tonight, Clyde. Avvie and me was just about to turn in. Why don'cha come by tomorrow?"

Avonlea's eyes widened slightly and the change in her countenance didn't go unnoticed by her grandfather.

"Somethin' wrong with that, Avvie?"

"I'm going riding with Little Joe tomorrow," she said.

"Little Joe Cartwright?" Clyde questioned, and neither Avonlea nor Bill could ignore the deviation in his tone as it grew slightly defensive.

"Yes," she replied with a cheerful nod.

"Little Joe's teachin' her to ride since she ain't never been on a horse," Bill supplied.

"And I don't want to be late, so I'd better turn in."

"Well, when _can_ I see ya?" Clyde persisted.

"I don't know, Mr. Johnson."

"Ya said that last time. Judge Miller's givin' a party on Friday night, and I was wonderin' if ya'd like to go with me. Ya ain't made any plans for Friday yet, have ya? Unless you're already goin' with Little Joe." There was a hint of venom in his voice and his eyes narrowed as he stared at her.

Avonlea was suddenly aware that she had no reasonable excuse to offer him and could not delay her response any longer. "No, I don't have any plans on Friday. I'd be happy to go to the party with you."

"I'll pick ya up at eight then."

She nodded and closed the door as he walked back to his horse and galloped off down the road.

"Ya don't have to go with him if ya don't want to, Avvie," Bill said immediately, turning to his granddaughter.

"It's all right, Grandpa. I'll have a good time." She kissed his cheek as a sign of assurance. "I'm going to bed now. Goodnight." And with these words she disappeared behind her bedroom door.

* * *

><p>"We're gonna canter today," Little Joe said, observing Avonlea in her new riding garb as she sat atop Wildfire and smirking at the look of confusion spreading across her features. "That means we're gonna go a little faster," he elaborated.<p>

Her eyes enlarged in a mixture of apprehension and eagerness. It was as if the process of learning scared her, but the idea of conquering her fear – feeling the wind blowing through her hair in victory – always seemed to win out. The vision was too enticing to be defeated by her nervous uncertainty of the unknown.

Little Joe chuckled. "Don't worry, you'll be fine."

Throughout the course of the lesson Avonlea's tension began to melt away, Little Joe always by her side, neither in front of her or behind her, increasing her sense of security atop the large burgundy-colored animal, and by the end of the afternoon, when Adam and Hoss rode in covered in trail dust, they found her riding in circles around the front yard, Little Joe nowhere to be found.

"Looks like you're gettin' the hang of it," Adam congratulated with a proud grin.

"Well, I'm still a little nervous," Avonlea admitted.  
>"Ah, don't you worry 'bout that. You're doin' great, Avonlea," Hoss said. "Where's Little Joe?"<p>

"He went into the house to get some refreshment."

"Speak a the devil," Adam muttered as Joe walked out of the house holding a tray containing a plate of cookies, two glasses, and a pitcher of what appeared to be lemonade.

"Hey, when'd ya get back?" he asked, setting the tray on the table and walking out into the yard.

"Just rode up," Hoss replied.

"How's that loco stallion?"

"He's gonna be a tough one to break, Joe."

"Well, I'll take a crack at 'im tomorrow."

Adam rolled his eyes at his brother's cockiness but resisted the urge to counter his words with his own smart retort as he and Hoss dismounted. He merely smirked instead; after all, Little Joe's antics were amusing if they weren't anything else.

Avonlea began to dismount and Joe hurriedly rushed to her side, gracefully placing her feet upon solid ground.

"I got a fresh pitcher of Hop Sing's lemonade on the porch. It's the best in the territory," Joe said.

"I would love some lemonade," she returned with a small giggle and a reddened face, then she turned to cast a glance over her shoulder at his brothers. "You would like to join us?"

"We've gotta wash off this trail dust," Adam said, "but thanks for the offer."

Hoss nodded in agreement, though his stomach protested, and the two proceeded into the barn with their horses as Little Joe and Avonlea settled down on the porch.

"I'm sore all over," she laughed, taking a sip of the glass Little Joe poured her.

"You'll get used to it," he replied with a chuckle.

"I want you to know how much I appreciate your taking the time to teach me, Little Joe." Avonlea looked deep into the young man's brown eyes with indisputable authenticity, and for the first time in a long time, Little Joe felt the color rising to his own cheeks. He couldn't remember the last time that had happened.

"It's my pleasure, Avonlea," he replied flippantly, attempting to hide the emotion she had just stirred within him. "If you're gonna live out here, you've gotta learn how to ride."

Silence followed as they sat drinking their lemonade, then, finally, Joe spoke again. "Judge Miller's givin' a party Friday night. There's gonna be music and dancing and some a the best punch in the world, and pretty nearly everybody in Virginia City'll be there. It'd be the perfect chance for ya to get to know some a the folks around here. I'd be honored if you'd let me take you and introduce ya around," Joe said, "that is as long Bill doesn't have any objections," he teased.

Avonlea's heart constricted and she turned away glumly. How could she have said "yes" to Clyde? Every bone in her body revolted against her rash decision, and she both resented and regretted the words she was now required to utter. "Clyde Johnson's already asked me," she said softly, unable to look at him.

"Oh." Joe didn't know what else to say as his face drooped in disappointment. However, her own disappointment was undeniable, and he soon forced his cheeks to perk up, bending over to touch his hand to hers.

She whipped around in surprise to find the man smiling sweetly upon her as he winked and said, "Just save one dance for me."


	9. Falling

Well, here comes the next chapter. Just a heads up, I'm trying to finish the semester (just 2 weeks of college left!), so I have tons of papers to finish for my classes, and I probably won't be able to write on this story for a little bit until I graduate, get home, and get settled back in. But always know that once I start a story I finish it, at least once I put it on fanfic, so keep your eyes peeled! This chapter should hold you until the next one. :) Don't forget to REVIEW!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

Avonlea placed a third clip in her hair and examined it in the mirror to insure there were no loose strands escaping her elaborate bun, and after deeming it acceptable she proceeded down the length of her body. Her pretty lavender dress dipped slightly below her shoulders and clung to her upper arms, revealing her creamy white skin as it shone under the soft light of the lamp on her vanity. She didn't much care how she looked for Clyde as long as she was presentable, but Little Joe would be at the party too, and she _did_ care how she looked for his sake. Her heart beat with anticipation of seeing him in a suit and tie, his hair finely combed and his bronze skin glowing with the freshness of a recent bath. She blushed as she wondered just how he would smell that night, thinking she might be going too far with her daydream but being unable to stop it nonetheless.

A knock on the door shook her out of her reverie and as she emerged from her room, her eyes met the clear blue ones of Clyde Johnson standing in the kitchen, exchanging greetings with her grandfather. When he saw her, the miner removed his hat, revealing a shock of shiny blonde hair.

"Ya look purdy as a picture, Miss Summers."

Avonlea smiled slightly and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Johnson."

"Just Clyde, Ma'am," he corrected.

"Just Avonlea, Clyde," she retorted with a smirk, drawing closer to him.

He offered her his arm. "Ya ready?"

She accepted it, trying to hide her reluctance behind a large smile, and walked out the door, her grandfather waving after them.

* * *

><p>The Cartwright clan was already there when she and Clyde arrived, though in the overwhelming jumble of faces that turned in unison as she entered on the man's arm, she didn't notice them until well after her first moments in the judge's house had passed. Standing by the punch bowl next to his brother, Hoss nudged Little Joe as he was in the process of ladling himself out a glass of the magenta liquid. It nearly spilled out onto his white shirt.<p>

"Careful, Hoss." Joe turned to his brother in annoyance.

Hoss ignored his remonstrance completely, nodding toward the door instead. "Look a there, Joe."

Joe did a double take, stopping his cup on its way to his mouth. He stood there for only a moment, trying not to gape in his current surroundings, but being incapable of refusing at least one fleeting moment to take in the woman's elegance. Her dress hung delicately in all the right places, accentuating her lovely curves, and the color she had chosen complemented her pretty red locks, clipped up fashionably in one of her buns. He still preferred to see her hair flowing caressingly about her profile, constricted by nothing save a simple ribbon tied in a small bow to keep the wilder strands out of her face, but piling it on top of her head drew his attention to her rouged cheeks, glowing in strawberry-tinted hues under the bright lights within the judge's house. Her lips were a deeper red than he had observed on their previous encounters, painted with an extra coat just for the occasion.

Hoss eyed Adam, a few feet away, and the brothers smirked good-naturedly at the extent to which their youngest brother was smitten by the exotic creature in the doorway. They both had to admit that she was a very attractive woman – tender and sweet to boot – and that Little Joe seemed, for once, to be in over his head. Any woman who could turn his head as much as she had was quite deserving of their respect, and, though they expected her to surrender eventually as nearly every woman did, they were enjoying watching the relationship play out right in front of them. The way she would draw closer, as if he were about to reel her in, and then swam away again made them snicker behind his back. It was about time Little Joe got a taste of his own medicine before she succumbed to his spell. They knew that she would, for try as she might to hide it, both of the men could see her affection for their brother. In fact, the only person who couldn't seem to decipher her feelings was Joe himself.

From the other side of the room, Avonlea finally spied the young cowboy and fixed her eyes upon him for the span of one lingering glance. He looked just as handsome as she had imagined with a thin black tie securing the collar of his white shirt comfortably about his neck. There wasn't a wrinkle in his gray slacks, and it appeared that he had spent nearly as much time on his own hair as she had on hers. She smiled from across the room at the man, the color rising to her cheeks, though it was hardly detectable underneath all her rouge; however, if you looked close enough, you could see her earlobes reddening.

After being introduced to several of the more prominent citizens of Virginia City – namely Judge Miller, Sherriff Coffee, and his deputy Clem Foster – Clyde helped Avonlea out of her wrap and went to hang it up on the rack several feet away while she made her way to the punch bowl.

"Mr. Cartwright," she said as she approached, holding out her hand to Ben.

"Avonlea, you look lovely," Ben replied with a benevolent smile, his eyes twinkling with a sense of pride.

"Thank you."

"I don't see Bill with you tonight."

"He wasn't feeling quite up to it."

"Hope he's not gettin' sick."

"Oh, no, he just needed a night to himself, I think."

Ben chuckled.

"I see you came with Clyde Johnson," Adam said, nodding toward the figure of the miner who was making his way toward the group.

Joe's features formed a glower in his brother's direction. Why did he have to bring that up?

"Well, he asked me," she replied with a flippant shrug.

"Howdy, Mr. Cartwright." Clyde was now by her side and shaking hands with the head of the family, making his way down the line until he reached Joe, upon whom his features hardened ever so slightly as he nodded and briefly uttered the man's name in greeting.

"Clyde," Joe returned, "how are ya?"

"Doin' jus' fine, Cartwright."

"How's the mining business treatin' ya?" Adam asked.

"Ain't hit a big vein yet, but it's there; we jus' gotta get to it."

After a slew of pleasantries, Clyde poured Avonlea a glass of punch and then led her out onto the floor to dance. His steps were awkward and lumbering, as if this were the first time he had danced with a partner whose elegance exceeded his own. Avonlea felt as if she were being dragged along rather than flying about the dance floor as she had desired. She had found, on other occasions, that trying to take in the environment around her while whirling about the floor made her quite nauseous, but in this case she was somewhat thankful for her partner's slow pace, for if she had had to stare into Clyde's eyes throughout the entirety of every dance it would have darkened her mood. His blue eyes, so transparent, made her feel as if she were looking into nothingness, whereas Joe's eyes, soft and dark, impressed upon her a feeling of tantalizing mystery. As it happened, her heart was still holding out for the dance she had promised him and secretly hoping that it might extend to two or three.

Just as she as about to begin her tenth dance, Avonlea saw Joe approaching the couple.

"Can I cut in?" he asked with a good-natured grin, extending his hand to Avonlea.

Clyde eyed the two cautiously before consenting wordlessly.

"I was afraid you wouldn't save that dance for me," Joe teased.

"I promised I would."

"Well, I thought you might enjoy the change after dancing nine songs with the same partner."

She smiled gratefully. "Variety _is_ the spice of life."

The room around them became a warm haze as they fell into a silent waltz, drinking in the intoxicating nearness of each other's presences. He held her hand and she felt his rough skin, which had been recently softened by a creamy lotion hours before, caressing her own, so delicate and cool. Unlike with Clyde, her brown eyes remained fixed on his, though her cheeks burned. Her stomach settled from its dizzying experience with the miner to the point where she hardly felt her legs moving at all. All she knew was that she was staring into his eyes, and he was staring back into hers. They were so overwhelmingly amorous that by the end of the dance she felt quite flushed and was beginning to shake under the strain of her leaping heart.

"I think I need a breath of fresh air," she giggled.

Little Joe smirked and glanced over his shoulder at Clyde Johnson locked in a conversation with Clem Foster then led her out the front door and into the peaceful night. "It's not as stuffy out here," he said.

Avonlea took a deep, satisfying breath of the mild air and, spotting the porch swing in the corner, took a seat.

"Tired?" Joe asked, looking down at her.

"My legs are about worn out," she chuckled in response.

"I know what ya mean. Pa nearly has to drag me out a bed the mornin' after a big party."

Avonlea smiled gently and looked out upon the country that seemed to be shrouded in a soft, warm, dark blanket as the night sky, which had traded in its bright azure for a rich navy, swooped down to touch the earth with its serenity.

Joe drew closer and finally sat down beside her, almost afraid that she would pull away, but she didn't; in fact, she hardly seemed to notice him at all, so caught up in the spell of the night air.

"Beautiful night, huh?"

"I love the nights here. The sky isn't blocked by the trees. It makes you feel so small, ya know, like you could get lost in it if only you could touch it."

"Well, there's a first. I don't know many people who like gettin' lost."

She turned to him then with a sweet smirk, but it began to evaporate as she looked into his eyes once again. They were like the night sky – so vast and so comforting and so indescribably alluring. She couldn't look away, and merely stammered, "You don't, Joe?"

His arm was around her shoulders, resting against the back of swing; his face was moving closer to hers. Her breath was caught in the back of the throat; she felt as if her heart was rattling her entire form and would very soon shatter her ribcage.

"I don't know anyone like you, Avonlea," he said softly, and she felt his warm breath against her face.

"Joe." Her protest was weak, and she knew her eyes and the condition of her body were betraying her. There was nothing she wanted more in that moment then to feel his lips smothering hers. He lingered only a moment and then touched them. A flood of relief washed over her senses as she finally let go, but, only a second later, they were parting. She leaned in and kissed him back, and Joe's happiness, already filled to the brim upon succeeding to kiss her, now overflowed. He took her in his arms and kissed her gently, afraid that he might startle her if he unleashed all of his passion at once. But she didn't pull away; she continued to kiss him and placed her left hand upon his white shirt, feeling the muscles underneath. She could feel herself falling, and promised herself that all she needed was this moment to get it out of her system, but for now she would kiss him and let him kiss her.


	10. Red River Valley

Hey guys! Sorry it's been over a month since I updated, but with the hustle and bustle of graduating and starting my job, I've had little time to write. My schedule is fairly hectic, so I don't know how much time I'll have to write in the future, at least while I'm still adjusting to post-college life (LOL), but I promise to update as soon as I possibly can! Enjoy the next chappie! Just a heads up, it was written a bit hurriedly since I wanted to get something up for all of you, so I apologize if there are type-o's/if anything doesn't seem to flow exactly right. Still, I hope you like it.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

Avonlea lay in her bed, touching her fingers to her lips. She felt as if they were palpitating in accordance with the beating of her heart, and she had never been so aware of their presence since the very first time she had been kissed. But the two circumstances hardly compared. Carl Lawrence had stolen a kiss from her at the gate after taking her on a walk on a Sunday afternoon – nothing more than a soft peck. Her kiss with Little Joe had been deep and overwhelming and soft in an entirely different way. Carl had been shy and slightly embarrassed – a characteristic some women would find endearing, but Joe had been passionate and confident, sweeping her off her feet. She couldn't get the vision of his eyelids closed over his eyes in euphoria out of her mind, and she could still feel his cheek upon her own. Had her mother felt this way about her father once? It suddenly hit her, the expression in Joe's eyes. She could not ignore the sincerity she had found there and it confused her. Everything she thought she knew about the male species was beginning to crumble. Perhaps they weren't all deserters. Perhaps they had true feeling, like the expression she had seen in Joe's eyes earlier that night.

Joe, on the other hand, slept soundly, a contented smile spread across his lips as he dreamt. Kissing a woman was all in a day's work for the youngest Cartwright, but he drew a particular amount of satisfaction from his success in this instance. What a wonderful moment they had shared. He couldn't get the vision of her that night, standing in the doorway, or the touch of her cool skin on his out of his head. He was most definitely falling for Avonlea Summers, and every moment they were together only enforced his inevitable surrender.

* * *

><p>"Is somethin' wrong, Avonlea?" Joe asked as her cantered up to the pretty maid. She had been uncharacteristically quite throughout the duration of their lesson and, though she was growing more and more confident with each one, it almost seemed as if she was avoiding him when she hurried ahead of him. She mounted herself without accepting any of his help as she usually did and their eyes had hardly met once. He had heard of playing hard to get, but this was something else entirely. It was almost as if she was scared of him somehow.<p>

She looked back at him, allowing her eyes to stare into his momentarily. "I thought I was improving."

"You are, every day," he assured her instantly, drawing his horse closer. "Just seems like somethin's on your mind. You've hardly said a word all afternoon."

She turned away. "I'm fine, Joe."

"I just thought, after last night, you'd feel more, I don't know, comfortable with me."

She couldn't help herself; she had to turn back and gaze into his eyes. They were so imploring that she felt her own lining with tears, but quickly brushed them back. She had known the Cartwrights long enough now to understand local gossip, and Little Joe was recognized as quite a western Romeo around these parts. Oh, he was harmless enough, but his reputation didn't instill much confidence in his loyalty as a romantic partner. She knew she would always have him as a friend, but she still didn't quite believe that another beautiful woman wouldn't come along and sweep him off his feet as she had.

"I'm sorry about last night, Joe."

"Sorry?" He was absolutely shocked.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"What d'ya mean?"

"I shouldn't have kissed you."

"Why not?"

"You really like me, don't you?"

"If it isn't obvious by now, I'm not doin' a very good job showin' ya."

"You think I'm pretty."

Joe drew his horse right up next to hers. "I think you're beautiful."

"But I'm sure you've known lots of beautiful girls, Joe."

He shrugged. "I guess so. Avonlea, what are you getting at?"

"I can't feel for you the way you feel for me, Joe."

"Avonlea-" He reached out his hand to touch hers, but she pulled her horse away.

"You're a good friend, Little Joe. I hope we'll always be friends," she said softly, unable to look at him.

"Just friends?"

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"When ya feel stronger for someone than just friendship, it's the worst thing in the world."

Silence followed as she cast her eyes upon him once again and then finally muttered, "D-do you love me, Little Joe?"

Joe pulled his horse up alongside hers once more. "What if I said yes?"

"I'd tell you you were crazy."

He smirked. "There's nothin' crazy about fallin' in love with a beautiful woman."

"You are crazy, Little Joe," she whispered, more to herself than to Joe.

Silence followed, and finally she looked up at the sky, noticing the deep orange hue of the sun as it met the horizon, lighting up the sky with one last burst of color before disappearing for the night.

"It's late. We should be getting back. Grandfather will be wondering where I am."

Joe consented wordlessly, knowing that the conversation was over and there was no use in pursuing it. He shook his head and allowed her to fall in behind him as he led her back to the ranch. Every time they talked he felt more confused than he had the time before. She kissed him one day and told him she could never love him the next. What was going on? Was it all just a game to her? And what was she afraid of? He knew now there must be something, for every time he drew near she pulled away like a frightened fawn.

* * *

><p>Adam sat on the front porch, strumming his guitar as they approached. After riding in an uncomfortable silence all the way back to the ranch, it was a welcome sound and instantly shook Avonlea from her daze.<p>

"How're the lessons comin' along?" Adam asked as she and Joe made their way to the house after tying up the horses.

"She won't be needin' 'em pretty soon," Joe said with a weak smile.

"Joe's a good teacher," Avonlea added.

"He has his moments," Adam agreed with a laugh.

"What were you playing as we rode up?"

"Just a new song I picked up."

"What's it called?"

"Red River Valley."

"Oh, I love that song. When I picked up the stage in Missouri there was a man who rode with me for several days. He played it almost every night, and I fell in love with it."

"Well, why don't you accompany me, then? You haven't sung for us since your first visit."

She blushed slightly but took a seat beside him, Joe beside her, as Adam began to sing.

"From this valley they say you are goin'

I will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile

They say you are taking the sunshine

That has brightened our pathway a while."

Avonlea leaned in closer to him and joined in the chorus.

"Come and sit by my side if you love me

Do not hasten to bid me ado

But remember the Red River Valley

And the cowboy who loves you so true."

The words sank into Little Joe's heart, watching Avonlea's face brightening as she exchanged fond glances with his older brother. He knew now that he truly did love her, but she seemed much more comfortable with the other members of his family than with him – the man she had kissed only a night ago. Perhaps he was too forward. She needed a man like Adam, who took his time and never fell head over heels, but he couldn't help it. There was something so intriguing, so alluring about her that he couldn't repel his feelings. He wanted to be the one to open her up and save her, to hold her hand and teach her all he knew. The riding lessons were a start, but they wouldn't be enough. He wanted to spend even more time with her, but it dawned on him that this might not be possible any longer, now that she seemed to be pulling away just as he thought she would begin to draw closer.

The two continued to sing, Adam taking the second verse and Avonlea repeated the chorus with him, and Joe felt, as he listened to their voices merge in perfect harmony, that the words could not be more appropriate than in that moment.

"I've been thinking a long time, my darlin'

Of those sweet words you never would say

Now at last all my fine hopes have vanished

They say you are going away

Come and sit by my side if you love me

Do not hasten to bid me ado

But remember the Red River Valley

And the cowboy who loves you so true."


	11. A Matter of Courage

Well, here's the next chapter. I know the story has been fairly slow so far, but I've really been trying to establish my own characters and their interactions with the original canon. Besides, I try to write very in character and true to the show, and in this way I hope that my story flows like an episode of Bonanza would. I promise the action is about to pick up. Sometimes you have to buffer more exciting chapters with slower ones, but I'm sorry for the delay if it's not moving fast enough for some of you. Thanks to all my readers who are sticking with it and enjoying it. Don't forget to REVIEW! At this point in the story I would really appreciate some feedback. Enjoy the next chappie!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

Little Joe trudged down the stairs the next morning, utterly exhausted. His sleep hadn't been as restful as the previous night's, when he had slept like a baby, confident in Avonlea's requited feelings for him. Ben looked up from the empty breakfast table where he had been waiting for his youngest son to awaken, his two older boys already out with the hands. Joe's wan countenance immediately caught his attention and his fatherly instincts filled in the blanks. He knew the symptoms of Joe's lovesickness all too well.

"'Bout time you got up," the man grumbled as Joe made his way over to the table, boots in hand, and plopped down in his chair.

"I'm sorry, Pa. Guess I overslept." He scratched his head and began to slip his feet into his shoes.

"Your brothers have been up for hours."

"I'll catch up to 'em, Pa."

"Well, just eat your breakfast. That'll give you time to tell me what's been bothering you the past few days."

Joe looked at his father questioningly. "What d'ya mean, Pa?"

"Well, one minute I can't get ya to stand still you've got so much energy and the next you're moping around the house and sleeping until noon. I think I deserve an explanation for you unpredictability."

"I dunno, Pa; just not feelin' like myself lately, I guess." Joe shrugged and served himself several slices of ham and a spoonful of scrambled eggs.

"And I'm sure your behavior has nothing to do with Avonlea."

Joe's head jerked up instantly at the mention of the girl's name, only to observe his father staring at him from across the table, arms folded over his chest.

Ben softened his expression, transforming his suspicious eyebrows into a knowing smirk.

Joe sighed, knowing it was futile to play dumb. "Is it that obvious?"

Ben chuckled. "Your transparency is commendable, even if it's not always beneficial."

"It certainly isn't that."

"What d'ya mean?"

"I can't make head or tail out of her. One minute she's kissing me, the next she's telling me she doesn't love me."

"I'm sure this transition has been very hard for her, losing her mother and leaving her home at the same time. You can't expect her to be completely open with you when she's still trying to adjust to the way we live out here. As much as she finds the West exciting, it'll still take her a long time to feel comfortable here. Now you've obviously helped her by taking her under your wing and I'm sure she's very grateful to you, but she probably doesn't understand anything more about her feelings than you do. You have to give her time to grow."

"I know, Pa, it's just that she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and it's not just her looks. There's just somethin' about her."

Ben smiled upon his youngest son. The faint gleam in his eyes reminded him of the one that had been in his own eyes upon meeting his mother. He leaned in closer to the boy and repeated, "Give her time, son," firmly but with a softer tone.

Joe managed a small, thankful grin in return. "Thanks, Pa. I'd better get goin' if I'm gonna catch Adam and Hoss before noon."

Ben nodded and watched as his son stood and swaggered over to the door. He buckled his holster about his hips, positioned his hat on his head, threw his jacket over one shoulder, and headed out the door.

* * *

><p>Avonlea's night was just as restless as Little Joe's, and when she woke at the crack of the dawn, finally resolved that she would not be getting anymore sleep than the three hours that she had had, she dressed herself in her tan riding skirt and white blouse, grabbed her recently acquired hat, and walked out the front door. Her grandfather still slept soundly, for she heard his familiar snoring through the door in the room next to hers when she left. He wouldn't be up for another hour or so – plenty of time for her to take a short ride without being missed. With any luck she would return before he awoke and have time to put the kettle on so he could have his cup of coffee first thing in the morning. She had never been riding by herself before. She had never ridden her grandfather's horse before. She was slightly nervous as she entered their small barn and proceeded the saddle June-bug the way Joe had taught her to saddle Wildfire.<p>

It wasn't the same. Junie didn't give her any trouble, but she wasn't used to Avonlea's uncertain hands the way Wildfire was. Her coat, a murky gray color, was slightly coarser, though not necessarily dirty. Bill simply didn't have the time to tend to her that Avonlea devoted to Wildfire after her rides with Little Joe. Whenever she visited the Ponderosa, whether or not she and Joe were scheduled for a riding lesson, she brushed the horse's beautiful red coat. It glistened under the bright rays of the sun that beat down upon it, unlike Junie's. The horse grunted in disapproval, but didn't refuse to cooperate, and finally Avonlea sat atop the nag, reins in hand.

"We're just gonna take a little ride, girl," she whispered in its ear, leaning over slightly.

The horse made no sign of protest and Avonlea kicked it into motion, clicking the reins against its back as well.

Off they went, trotting down the main street away from the house until Avonlea built up enough courage to ease into a canter and guide the horse off the road. The soft wind rippled through her hair, playing with her unkempt curls, and the brim of her hat flapped wildly but didn't fly off. Soon she was galloping, too swept up in the feeling of liberation coursing through her veins to be scared of her increasing speed or even take much notice of it. The first thing she did notice was that her vision was beginning to blur. She lifted a hand to rub her right eye, only to find that tears were gathering there and would soon overflow. In a matter of mere seconds she was blind, and the fear returned. She pulled up on June-bug's reins and the horse slowed down, eventually stopping under a large tree. Avonlea dismounted, the reins still in hand, sat down under the tree, and there she buried her head in her arms, crossed them over her knees, and cried for the first time since her mother's death.

When she returned home, Bill was already up and, to her surprise, had fixed his own pot of coffee. He sat at the table, calmly sipping the warm liquid, and looked up rather nonchalantly as she walked through the front door. Her face was red with tearstain and the lower lids of her eyes were puffy and raw, but it was apparent that he hadn't yet noticed, for she kept her face turned away from his in a desperate attempt to hide her sorrowful features.

"Go for a ride?" Bill asked, staring in his coffee.

Avonlea nodded and slowly made her way to the stove where she began to scramble some eggs. "I meant to be home before you woke up."

"Well, I might not be able to do much cookin', but I can make myself a pot a coffee. That much I _can_ do."

"I'll have some eggs and biscuits ready for you soon."

"No rush, Avvie. Why don't ya pour yourself a cup and set a spell with me? Tell me 'bout your first ride."

Avonlea turned to look at her grandfather then, revealing her puffy cheeks and the red streaks that ran down them.

Bill jumped up from the table and rushed to her side. "Avvie, what's wrong? Are ya all right? Junie didn't throw ya, did she?"

She shook her head, lowering it sheepishly. "No, I'm fine." Her voice cracked and the tears began to make their way to the tips of her lashes once again.

Bill observed her knowingly, pulling her into his arms as she gripped him tightly and allowed herself another good cry, her face buried in his shirt.

"I miss your ma too, but she's still here with us."

"I've already cried about Mother," Avonlea said, shaking her head. "I know that the ache will always be there, but it doesn't hurt like it used to."

"Then what's wrong, honey?"

"Little Joe," she choked and felt Bill's muscles tensing.

"Did he hurt ya, Avvie?"

She shook her head again, violently. "No. I love him."

"But that's not somethin' to cry about."

"He has so many girls, Grandpa. All the girls in town are always talking about him; you've said so yourself. How could I ever expect him to fall in love with me, I mean really and truly?"

Bill watched her carefully as she finally lifted her face to peer into his own.

"It don't take no genius to know that Little Joe loves you. I saw it in his eyes the first time he came to take ya drivin', but they say love is blind, and if that's true I guess it's easier for other folks to see it."

"Was it the same with Mom and Dad?"

Bill considered this for a moment. "I reckon so."

"Then why did Dad leave?"

All was silent as Bill studied his granddaughter's face, so pitiful and pleading. She was desperately trying to understand something that had no explanation, and it frustrated him that he could provide her no satisfactory solution. Finally, he stumbled upon something. "He was a coward."

"What?"

"Your father was a coward, Avonlea," he repeated. "See, it ain't a matter a lovin' someone, it's a matter a courage. When the goin' got rough, your pa ran, and he'll be runnin' all his life. But you don't have to worry, honey."

"Why?" she asked curiously.

"'Cause the Cartwrights ain't cowards, least of all Little Joe." Bill grinned. "That boy's got too much courage for his own good sometimes. He needs to learn when he's been beat."

Avonlea offered a weak smile and sniffled as Bill reached out his hand to pat her on the back.

"Don't cry anymore, Avvie, and don't be afraid to fall in love. It's the best gift the good Lord gave us. This world is just as full a strong men as it is of cowards, and I guarantee you if Little Joe's in love with ya, he'll stand beside ya 'til his dyin' day."


	12. The Attack

Well, here comes the next chapter. I'm so glad I actually got some time to write this week, and here's also some of that action I promised you. :) Enjoy! I have one note.

MGM: I'm so glad you don't find Avonlea a Mary Sue. I've written BZ fics before where many people told me my characters were Mary Sues, and so I desperately tried to avoid that this time. Of course, that was back in high school, but it's still hard not to do it. I wanted Avonlea to be believable and flawed, but I wanted her to be identifiable and sympathetic as well. It's a really hard thing to do, so I'm glad you like her character.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12<strong>

Little Joe kept his distance from Avonlea after his conversation with Ben. He didn't invite her for another riding lesson and, in fact, didn't even leave the Ponderosa. There was much to be done in preparation for the upcoming roundup, and he agreed with his father that Avonlea did need space and time to get a handle on her own feelings. That didn't mean, however, that it was any easier to stop thinking about her. He wondered where she was and what she was doing all the time, and so the result was a very distracted Joe Cartwright, though he was no longer mopey or even necessarily downcast. His spirits were high, but his powers of concentration had never been lower, and his brothers couldn't help but take notice.

"What's a matter with Little Joe, Pa? He's been actin' real funny lately," Hoss observed as he sauntered up to his father and older brother who were saddling their horses in the barn.

"I think the correct question is what _isn't_ that matter with Little Joe," Adam retorted.

Ben chuckled. "Your brother's just going through a very natural part of life, Hoss."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"Infatuation with a woman."

"I seen Little Joe get himself all worked up over a gal before, but never like this."

"It'll pass," Adam said flippantly.

"I dunno, Adam. He's pretty gone on her."

"No more so than she is on him."

"How d'ya know? She seems awful scared a 'im."

Adam shook his head at his brother's inability to read the signs. "She's not scared of him, she's scared of loving him."

Hoss stared dumbly up at his brother who was now seated atop his horse. "Huh?"

Ben laughed at the banter between his two oldest sons concerning his youngest. "Little Joe's whereabouts are nobody's business but his own. At least he's gettin' back to work, and that's all any of us can ask of 'im."

"Sure, he's working, but ya have to repeat everything ya say to 'im three times," Adam said.

The men exchanged knowing smirks and then took off for the open prairie where Joe was already out with the rest of the hands.

* * *

><p>Over the past week, Avonlea had taken many rides with June-bug and though the horse was no Wildfire, the two had become quite fond of each other. Still, she missed the bright chestnut coat of the horse she had come to call her own, but she couldn't go back to the Ponderosa, not after refusing Little Joe so bluntly. The conversation she had had with her grandfather was comforting, but necessarily convincing. She wanted to believe in his words, and they had made a great impact on her, but not enough to run to Joe and bare her heart before him. She wasn't afraid of initial rejection, only an eventual one. Besides, regardless of her own feelings, the courage her grandfather had talked about may have been a virtue Little Joe possessed, but she certainly didn't. She was a coward, and she knew it. She couldn't help but blame her father for that, and she would never forgive him for it. Cowardice was not a trait she wished to inherit, and she was beginning to feel more and more like her father in her relationship (or lack thereof) with Joe every day.<p>

Her days had been restless ones, with nothing better to do than sit at home and mend her grandfather's shirts and darn his socks, and when she couldn't stand the stillness anymore she would hop on June-bug and race off across the country, knowing all the while that Wildfire could carry her twice as fast.

Entering town one morning, she made her way to Mr. Henderson's mercantile in search of several selections of fabrics to sew herself some new dresses. In Maine she had been known among her circle of friends as quite a seamstress, but her skills were a bit rusty now since she hadn't touched a needle since her cross-country move nearly three months ago. But autumn would be here before she knew it, and she would need some new clothing, as she suddenly found the dresses she had worn last year much too big. She selected several reams of cloth in delicate grays, vibrant golds, rich navies, and mossy greens. Just as she was placing her purchases in her grandfather's rig, a familiar voice welcomed her from over her left shoulder.

"Howdy, Avonlea." Clyde Johnson removed his hat from his head momentarily and nodded sheepishly.

She had almost forgotten about him. She hadn't seen him since Judge Miller's party and had preferred it that way. She couldn't help but feel that the man merely valued her for her body and, though she had a tendency to think that about every man, including Little Joe, there was still something about the man that made her more uneasy about the male species than usual.

"Oh, hi, Clyde," she returned, placing a very fake smile on her face.

"I haven't seen ya since the dance," he said.

_He gets right to the point, doesn't he?_ she thought, but said, "Oh, I guess you're right," instead, feigning ignorance.

"I'm sorry ya got sick, but ya look like you're feelin' better now."

"I am. Thank you, Clyde," she said, unable to make eye contact with the man.

"Well, seein' as how we didn't get a chance to get properly 'quainted with each other, I was kinda hopin' ya might like to go on a ride this afternoon." His eyes took in her feminine form in such a way that a shiver went climbing up her spine.

"I-I'd better get on home, Clyde. I have to unload my packages."

"I'll have ya home in time for supper," he promised.

"No, I-"

"I s'pose if I was Little Joe Cartwright you'd come."

Avonlea simply stared at him, blinkingly dumbly. She didn't quite understand what he was implying. "What?"

"Ya heard me. I saw him at the dance. He couldn't wait to take you away from me, him and that pretty boy face a his. And you – walkin' off with him when you thought I wasn't lookin'. I shoulda known Cartwright'd get to ya."

"Now wait a minute-"

"I seen the way ya looked at him that night. C'mere." Suddenly Clyde reached out hi hand and grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her into the alley between Mr. Henderson's store and the livery stable.

"Clyde!"

He clamped his free hand down on her mouth before she could let out another shriek. "Now you listen to me. I've been breakin' my back in these mountains for sixteen years without a lick a silver to show for it and no woman waitin' for me when I got home. I'm just as good as man as them Cartwrights, only I ain't so high and mighty as they are. I ain't got no big ranch or fancy duds, but I know what I want when I see it, and I got just as much right to take it. I want you, Avonlea, and I aim to have ya, and I don't care if Joe Cartwright stands in my way."

Avonlea had never been more scared in her entire life, not even when the doctor had told her that her mother had died. Her eyes were the size of silver dollars as Clyde drew his face still closer.

"Now, why don't ya just pretend I'm Little Joe and kiss me the way you kissed him."

She began to struggle, balling her fists and flailing them wildly against his upper arms, unable to reach face or his chest. Her feet kicked his shins as she fought in utter desperation against his strong grip to no avail. He lowered his head and his mouth was against her neck. She could feel his rough mustache scraping against her soft nape. His hand slipped from her mouth and she let out a despairing screech.

Clyde pulled away rapidly and slapped her across the face vehemently. "Shut up!"

Tears rose to her eyes, overflowed down her cheeks, and dripped off of her chin as she wept, offering one more pitiful scream for help. But it was over as soon as it had begun, because as before she was aware of what was happening, Clyde was being ripped from her. She no longer felt his hands squeezing her arms or his lips covering her neck. It was impossible for her to see anything through the blur of tears that were temporarily blinding her. The only thing she could make out was the figure of another man viciously punching Clyde Johnson in the gut and across the face, over and over and over. She backed up against the wall of Mr. Henderson's building to catch her breath, just as startled by her sudden rescue as she was by her sudden attack, and when she could finally visualize the scene, she found Little Joe standing before her, panting, and Clyde Johnson lying at his feet, out cold.


	13. Thank You

Here comes the next chapter. Enjoy, everyone! Notes!

abiliciousabs: It's so good to finally here from you! I'm glad you found a computer that would allow you to leave a review, although I don't know why you'd have a problem from any computer, but you know how reliable technology is. LOL. Anyway, I'm glad you liked the last scene and I'm glad you like Avonlea's character. It was hard finding the right balance of independence and historical correctness for her, but I think I've succeeded slightly. I understand what you mean about the last scene, but I guess I wrote it so hurriedly that I didn't even think about having her really hurt Clyde. I didn't want it to seem like she rolled over and played dead; I did want her to struggle, but she's not Rose or Hazel either. LOL. But I agree with you, if I had drawn the scene out more and let her fight back a little more, I don't think it would have been too "mannish" either.

joesprincess06: Keep reading. :) I think a gut-spilling scene is in order just around the bend.

Anna: It spent a fair amount of time writing, reading, and rereading Clyde's dialogue in the last scene because I wanted it to be very believable. I'm glad I succeeded!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong>

Avonlea observed the face of her rescuer wordlessly, too stunned to speak. He had a busted lip and several open gashes through which blood was beginning to flow. His hat lay in the street, covered in dust, much like the rest of his personage. In fact, the dirt that coated his body was now mixing with the sweat dripping from his forehead, forming a muddy brown glaze on his skin. Apparently Clyde must have put up some sort of fight before succumbing to Joe's blows, for as he took several steps toward her, she saw the muscles in his face crinkle fleetingly in pain. Her heart went out to him in that moment, knowing that the pain he now endured had been acquired in her defense.

"J-Joe," she choked finally.

"Are you all right, Avonlea?" he asked immediately, eyes revealing nothing short of genuine concern.

She nodded.

Silence followed as they gazed into each other's eyes, neither one sure how to proceed. Eventually Avonlea called attention to his wounds. "Oh, Joe, you're bleeding."

Joe touched a hand to his busted lip and then shrugged. "I'm all right."

"It looks bad." She lifted her hand to touch the tender area around his left eye. "That eye's gonna bruise."

"It'll heal soon enough. Sure you're all right."

"Just a little shaken. W-would you drive me home?"

"I wasn't about to let ya drive home alone." Joe bent to pick up his hat and then offered her his arm. She took it readily, clinging to it for dear life as he led her back to her buggy.

On the short, silent ride home, Avonlea sat stiff as a board, more shaken by the incident than she would ever admit in words. Her cheeks were caked with dried tears, giving them a very tight feeling against the bones underneath, and she could feel the seam of her dress underneath her right armpit breaking and forming a large hole as a result of her tussle. What she really wanted more than anything was to rest her head on Joe's shoulder and allow him to wrap his arm around her shivering body. She wanted to feel the comfort she knew he could bring after such an ordeal, but even now, after such a brilliant display of honor and courage, she could not bring herself to fall upon his shoulder and cry. She was too shocked to fully comprehend what had just happened. All she knew for sure was that Joe had saved her, but exactly how and why was still an uncertain malaise.

"How was your day in town, Avvie?" Bill asked, coming out of his bedroom with a bright smile upon his face. It faded instantly as he took in the two young people before him – dirty, tired, and, in Joe's case, bloody. "Avvie!" He rushed to his granddaughter's side, placing his hands on her shoulders and peering into her face. "What happened?"

"I'm all right, Grandpa," she assured him. "It's Joe you should be worried about."

"I'm fine," he interjected, but Avonlea seemed deaf to his insistent plea.

"Sit down, Little Joe. I'm going to get some bandages for your cuts."

Before he could protest she had disappeared in search of medical supplies, and Joe turned to Bill. "I'm fine, Bill," he repeated.

"Those cuts look pretty nasty. Ya better let Avvie clean ya up. 'Sides, you gotta tell me what happened. I'll never get it outta her."

Joe winced as he sat down in a wooden chair at their kitchen table. "It was Clyde Johnson. I saw him in the alley with Avonlea. He-" He stopped short, not quite sure how to phrase the next sentence.

"You tell me what he was doin', Little Joe."

"He was hittin' her," he said hesitantly, looking away.

"What?"

At that moment Avonlea reappeared with a pillow in one hand and a roll of gauze in the other.

"Avonlea, Little Joe says Clyde Johnson was hittin' you. Why?"

"Joe, lift your head," Avonlea ordered the young cowboy, ignoring her grandfather's question for the moment.

Joe did as he was told and Avonlea slipped the pillow behind his head.

"Avonlea?" Bill urged, cocking a demanding eyebrow.

She looked up at him momentarily and hurried over to a long table in the corner where a pitcher of water and an empty basin waited.

"He wanted me to kiss him," she said, her voice hard and informative, for she refused to allow any emotion to seep through.

Little Joe sat up straight in his chair as the pillow dropped to the floor. It wasn't as though he hadn't assumed this, but hearing her word his supposition somehow gave it new life, and he loathed the very thought of the man forcing himself upon the woman he loved.

She poured some water into the basin and returned to the kitchen table, dipping a rag into the cool water. She bent down and repositioned the pillow behind Joe's head, then proceeded to dab the damp cloth on his wounds.

"I'm never lettin' you go into town without me again," Bill said firmly. "And ya ain't goin' out ridin' anymore either."

Joe looked at her in surprise, but Avonlea wouldn't look at him until he said, "You've been riding, Avonlea?"

"A little bit," she replied.

"Nearly every day," Bill corrected with a smirk. "She's gone for hours. Makes me worried sick."

Avonlea smiled. "I'm all right, Grandpa."

"Well, ya ain't doin' it anymore, ya hear?"

"That's fine. I don't want to be alone right now anyway."

Suddenly Joe drew in a sharp breath of air.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Joe."

"That's all right. I'm lucky to have such a pretty nurse."

She smiled as a small blush rose to her already flushed cheeks. "You'll stay for dinner, won't you?"

"Well, if you insist," he chuckled.

* * *

><p>Dinner went splendidly. The three had a fine time, and together Joe and Bill succeeded in bringing a healthy glow to Avonlea's cheeks once again. She laughed a good deal as Bill told story after story of incidents that had occurred back in Maine when she was a child, and Joe even offered a few whoppers about Adam and Hoss. It was the first time in a long time that Avonlea had truly enjoyed herself, and by the end of the night the tension that had existed between her and Little Joe had all but vanished. She was reminded once again of the security she felt when she was with him and the sheer sense of joy that overwhelmed her heart when his face lit up, knowing that he was sharing in that same joy. As cliché as it sounded, his laugh truly was like music to her ears and when it mixed with hers she could think of nothing that could ever make her feel more content.<p>

Bill allowed the scene to play out before him, slowly edging his way to the margins of the conversation. After dessert, he resigned himself to his pipe and planted himself in the rocking chair by the fire. He pulled out a pair of reading glasses from his pocket and proceeded to reread the copy of the _Territorial Enterprise_ that had been sitting on the table all day. Avonlea took no notice of him, though if she had she would have noted that he had done the exact same thing that morning. Instead, she walked with Joe out of the house and onto the porch.

"I just realized my horse is still in town," Joe said suddenly.

Avonlea's eyes widened. "Do you think he's all right?"

"Ah, sure he is. Jim's takin' good care of 'im, but I'm sure he's wonderin' why I haven't come to get him by now. I told him I'd only be a few hours."

Joe chuckled and Avonlea giggled.

"You can take the buggy back into town to get him. I'll tell Grandpa to come get it in the morning."

"Thanks."

"How's Wildfire?"

Joe smirked. "A little restless. He hasn't been ridden since the last time you came to visit."

Avonlea looked off into the night sky. "I miss him. Riding Junie just isn't the same."

"He misses you too."

She turned to look at him then, the light of the full moon gleaming in her dark eyes. Ever so slowly she lifted her neck as he bent his and touched her lips to his. When they parted the gashes on his face seemed glaring, and he noticed the change in her expression.

"What is it?"

"Are you sure you're all right, Little Joe?"

He grinned. "I've been in worse fights with men a lot stronger than Clyde Johnson. I'll be fine. It's you I'm worried about."

"Don't worry about me. Grandpa won't let me go anywhere by myself for a long time, so there's no need," she chuckled.

Silence followed until her smile disintegrated and she gazed into his eyes, suddenly serious. "I haven't properly thanked you for what you did for me today. I don't know what Clyde would have done to me if you hadn't come along. Thank you, Joe. I've never had any man stand up for me like that before."

"I like standin' up for you, Avonlea," he said, bending his neck for a second kiss. "And as for sayin' thank you-" He pressed his lips against hers, running a hand through her hair and allowing it to rest behind her head, cradling it like a child's. When he finally did pull away, she felt her legs growing weak under the charming smirk that now rested upon his lips. "I think that'll do for now."

She smiled softly, grateful that the night was hiding her burning cheeks and completely oblivious to the fact that the moon's light provided exactly the amount necessary for Joe to still detect her blush. Completely satisfied with his evening, Little Joe placed his hat upon his head, gave her a sly nod, and then retreated into Bill's barn to hitch up the buggy.


	14. The Gift

Well, here comes the next chapter. I hope you're enjoying these little snapshots of Joe and Avonlea finally getting closer. I don't want to story to drag along, but I don't want things to happen uncharacteristically fast either. Anyway, enjoy! One note!

abiliciousabs: You've got the right idea. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

"What happened to ya, boy?" Ben asked, looking up from the fire where he and his other two sons sat, enjoying the peace of a quiet evening after a long, hard day of work. He set his cup of coffee down on the table and went to meet his youngest son at the door.

Adam looked up from his book and Hoss from the piece of wood he was whittling.

"Hey, Joe, what happened?" the big man asked, concerned.

"Ah, it's nothin', just a little fight."

"With who?" Ben demanded.

"Clyde Johnson."

"Why were you fighting with Clyde Johnson?"

"Well, I saw him in the alley between the livery and Henderson's and he was hittin' Avonlea."

"He was hitting her?"

All three men were shocked as Joe answered with a nod.

"What he drunk?" Hoss asked after a brief pause.

"I don't think so."

"Is she all right?" Adam questioned.

"She's fine. I drove her back to Bill's and stayed for supper to make sure she'd be all right. She was more scared than hurt, I think. But I don't think Bill'll be lettin' her out of his sight for a long time."

"He's got good reason," Ben said, resuming his seat on the couch with a satisfactory nod.

"What did ya do with Clyde?" Adam asked.

"Just left 'im layin' there. I was more concerned about gettin' Avonlea home. I'll go and see Roy tomorrow." Joe melted down into the corner of the couch opposite his father with a sigh of content.

"Well, thank goodness you were there," Ben said resignedly.

"Yeah, sure is lucky for ya, isn't it, Little Joe?" Hoss eyed his brother and cocked a knowing eyebrow.

"What d'ya mean?" Joe retorted.

"Well, there ain't many gals can resist the man who saved their life, are there?" he teased.

"Please, Hoss, you're two steps behind Little Joe. You see, our younger brother here may not be good at much else, but he seems to have a knack for wooing women, or so he thinks. I'm sure he's already aware of the effect his actions could have Miss Summers," Adam teased.

"Well, thanks, older brother, I guess I'm just more gifted with women than you are, but I think a little bit of it might rub off if you're lucky."

The boys, together with their father, enjoyed a much-needed laugh as a result of their playful banter, followed soon after by a good night's sleep. And, miles away – across the open frontier, past the thousands of acres of the mighty Ponderosa and the now quiet streets of Virginia City – Avonlea slept soundly for the first time in months.

* * *

><p>The next day Joe went into town to report Clyde to Roy, only to find out that the miner had skipped town, aware that his actions were bound to land him in jail if he stuck around. However, in a surprising turn of events, Avonlea didn't want to press charges. She was fairly certain that the man would never return to Virginia City and found the amount of time required to hunt him down not only unnecessary but a waste of valuable manpower. And so the incident came to rather anticlimactic end, but Joe quickly recovered from the initial burst of anger that flowed through his veins when he learned that a posse wouldn't be going after the man. He was content with the memory of defending Avonlea without additional aid from the law, and she seemed to be as well.<p>

From that day forward, Little Joe and Avonlea were thick as thieves. He took her riding nearly every day, for her desire to feel the wind rushing through her curls overpowered her grandfather's desire to keep her safe at home. Being atop Wildfire again was everything she'd dreamed it'd be. She felt as if she were flying across the open fields of the Ponderosa. At first the speed frightened her, but Joe's smile, encouraging her onward as he galloped along beside her, gave her a confidence she had never known before. They never spoke of love, and didn't kiss again, but Joe had learned not to scare her off by mentioning it before she did. He was growing impatient, but there was nothing more he could do than assure her of his devotion with her friendship. His father was right. Avonlea was a very delicate creature, despite all her attempts to hide her true feelings. However, when they were out riding through the beautiful green hills and along the banks of Lake Tahoe with the big, blue, cloudless sky above and the sun spitting vibrant beams down upon them, she would laugh freely, as if nothing in the world could ever hold her back. She would smile at him as if she had nothing to hide, and he could see the happiness his own smile brought twinkling in her eyes. Maybe it was Wildfire or the beautiful weather that persisted day after day without a wisp of gray anywhere on the horizon, but every day she seemed to open a bit more, like a budding rose in springtime.

One afternoon the two pulled up along the banks of the massive lake, a picnic lunch prepared by Hop Sing in their saddlebags. Avonlea unrolled the blanket, spread it over the grass, and they sat down to eat. After about an hour or so of lazing in the sun, Avonlea left Joe where he had fallen asleep, with the brim of his hat swooping down over his face and casting a soft shadow over his eyes and nose, to brush Wildfire's shimmering red coat. When Joe awoke he found her softly crooning "Beautiful Dreamer" to the large animal and running her brush through its black mane. Her voice was warm and inviting, just like the words she was singing, and Joe waited until the last note had drifted off across the water before he said anything.

"I think it's 'bout time I made it official," he chuckled.

Avonlea whipped around, startled and slightly embarrassed that he had heard her singing, yet somehow glad to find him awake.

"Little Joe, I thought you were asleep."

He smirked. "You really love him, don'cha?" He nodded toward the horse.

She nodded, smiling softly as she turned back to Wildfire and patted his nose, then pressed her cheek up against his long face lovingly.

Little Joe found his feet and walked over to them, taking hold of Wildfire's reins. He grasped Avonlea's hand, opened it, and placed the reins inside it, saying, "Then he's yours."

"What?" The word sounded more like a gasp as Avonlea looked up into Joe's face confusedly.

"You heard me. I'm want you to have 'im. He won't let any of us ride 'im anymore."

Avonlea giggled and wrapper her fingers around the reins, and for the second time tears began to form in her eyes as she looked back up into Little Joe's face. She eyed Wildfire in her peripheral vision and the liquid began to trickle down her cheeks.

"Oh, Joe," she whispered, burying her face in the horse's flank, her hand clenched tight around its reins.

"I thought you'd like 'im," he said, placing a soothing hand on her back.

Avonlea turned to face him but didn't pull away. "You mean he's really mine? I can keep him in my barn?"

"You can keep 'im anywhere ya like. He's yours." He smiled.

"Oh, Joe," she repeated, unable to find the words to properly thank him, "th-this is the most wonderful present I've ever received."

"I know you'll take good care of 'im."

She nodded. "Thank you so much," she said softly, lifting her right hand slowly to place it upon his left cheek, which was healing nicely. His wounds were hardly even visible anymore. She drew her face nearer and kissed his lips briefly, timidly, as if it were one of the first times she had ever kissed a man and truly meant it to be an expression of genuine affection, perhaps even love, and in that one kiss Little Joe finally felt sure that she was falling for him, just as he had fallen for her.


	15. Falling Again

Hey guys! Sorry it's been so long since I updated, but I've been a bit busy. However, I had to get out another chapter before I leave for vacation. Don't worry, I won't be gone long, but a good cliffie will be just the sort of cruelty to leave you with while I'm gone. LOL. Notes!

desnouer: I'm glad you're enjoying the fic. Clearly, I don't work with horses or I would have been better about writing them. However, I love horses and it's always been a dream of mine to learn to ride, so I see a bit of myself in Avonlea as I write. It's hard not to express my desire to ride when writing about it. It just naturally comes out. I'm sorry I'm not more learned when it comes to horse lingo, though. Glad it's not taking away from the story too much.

Anna: I'm glad the previous chapter felt sore of "montage-y." It was intended to have that affect. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15<strong>

"Have you ever been in love before, Hoss?" Avonlea asked the big man one day, sitting across from him on the porch. The two were engaged in a game of checkers, waiting for Adam and Joe to return from Virginia City, and the weather was much too beautiful to keep them cooped up indoors.

Hoss looked up at her, shaken by the suddenness of the question. "Well, sure I have," he said finally with a shrug.

"Did you tell her you loved her?"

"When the time was right."

"How did you know the time was right?"

Hoss pondered this for a second, not knowing exactly how to answer such a question. "I guess I just sorta felt it, ya know? Like I looked into her eyes and just knew I had to tell her or I'd bust. I couldn't go on another second without her knowin' that I'd do anythin' in the world for her."

"How'd ya do it?"

"Well, it was different every time. It had to be perfect, just like she was. Sometimes it'd be at night, sittin' in the buggy, when I could see the moonlight shinin' on her hair and in her eyes. Other times it'd be down by the water or up in the high country where I could see the sun turnin' her cheeks all pink and pretty."

"Were you ever afraid to tell her?"

"Maybe a little, but only 'cause I thought she might not say it back. I'm an ugly cuss, Avvie." Hoss winked to assure Avonlea it was a joke and she grinned.

"You're not ugly, Hoss."

"There's ain't no use in lyin' to me, Avonlea. I know I ain't anythin' to sneeze at, but it don't make no difference. If I love a woman, I gotta tell her. Ya cain't keep somethin' like that bottled up. Like to drive ya crazy if ya do."

_That's for sure_, Avonlea sighed as Hoss made his next move. She was beginning to feel the tug of her heart more and more these days, and the little voice inside her head that had persistently offered words of warning in previous months had now grown silent. There were moments when she would look at Little Joe and that irresistible smile of his and very nearly blurt out her profession of love. She always stopped herself, but the words continually bubbled to the surface of every conversation, begging to be released from behind the ever-weakening levee. She couldn't hold out much longer, and she didn't really want to anymore. She only wanted the perfect moment in which to tell him. She wanted to whisper it softly in his ear and then kiss his lips tenderly and wait for his strong arms to wrap around her torso. It had to be perfect for him.

* * *

><p>It was a particularly glorious afternoon in mid-September. The leaves had just begun to change color but not yet to fall, and so the landscape was dotted with bursts of yellows and reds and oranges against a vivid canvas of evergreen. The effect was almost bewildering to Avonlea, seeing it for the first time unencumbered by the confines of a carriage. She didn't have to look out a window to gaze upon the world anymore; she was a part of it. Her hair danced with the breeze, which was growing slightly cooler with each passing day. A light jacket was now a necessary addition to her wardrobe, one that provided her with much-needed warmth without bogging her down as she raced across the open prairie with Little Joe. He grew handsomer every day, his hair slightly lighter than it was when she had first met him. The sun had drenched it into a soft brown, though she knew when winter fell it would darken again. Her thoughts drifted dreamily to the bitter months ahead, and it amused her to think that she had always hated them so, cooped up indoors with only a book to distract her from her mother's wheezing in the next room. Those had been dark days. Now she seemed to beckon the months of November through March eagerly toward her, welcoming them as dear friends. Even though she wouldn't be able to enjoy riding Wildfire in the face of the bitter wind, and galloping through the snow would be quite a burden, she blushed at the thought of spending soft, quiet nights before the Cartwrights' fire, singing along with Adam's guitar or reading softly to Joe when the rest of the family had gone to bed. She hadn't told him of her love yet, but she hoped that one day she might—one quiet night before the fire.<p>

Still, the icy chill of winter was at least another month away, and it took all the strength she had to pull herself out of her daydream. Little Joe himself was before her, urging Cochise onward. He had promised to show her how to fish today, and she had almost forgotten that they were racing to the lake. She shook herself and dug her heels into Wildfire's flanks in an attempt to catch up with the man. At this point she had become such a good rider that she could give Little Joe a run for his money most days.

"Not tired, are ya, Joe?" she shouted as she caught up with him, streaming past him as if the wind itself were carrying her forward.

"Not on your life!" he shouted back. The vision of her graceful back galloping further and further away taunted him playfully and the blood coursed through his veins rapidly. If he could only catch her, not just in this race but for always. He would one day; he was determined to.

Suddenly a shot rang out across the rolling hills, ricocheting off of the rocks above. He heard Wildfire whinny and saw him rear back on his hind legs, startled by the sudden blast. He himself had to hold tightly to Cochise's reins. However, as an experienced rider he knew how to compensate to stay on his horse. Avonlea, on the other hand, did not. The next thing he knew, Avonlea was lying on the ground, motionless. The color drained from his face and his mind flew back to the time Ben had told him about his mother's death. Thrown from a horse, he had said. Her neck had snapped instantly and she was gone just like that, faster than you could bat an eyelash.

"Avonlea!" he cried, kicking Cochise back into motion. His heart fluttered with fear as he drew near the spot. He could hardly bear to look down, afraid that he might see the face of his mother staring up at him, limp and white and hollow.


	16. Surrender

Well, here it is - the chapter you've all been waiting for.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 16<strong>

"Avonlea!" Little Joe hopped off of Cochise in a panic and dropped to his knees beside the lifeless form of the slender redhead. He scooped up her head in his arms and cradled it against his lap, immediately feeling for her pulse underneath her chin, on the right side of her neck. Her heartbeat was normal and she didn't appear to have any broken bones. In fact, the only appearance that there had been an accident at all were a few scrapes on her arms and legs and a layer of red dust that covered her clothes.

His suspicions that she was virtually unharmed were confirmed in a matter of seconds when her eyes fluttered open slowly. The eyes in her head were wide and confused; she was obviously shaken and fearful.

"L-Little Joe," she stammered, tilting her head slightly to the left to peer into the man's face. Suddenly a sharp pain shot up from the small of her back to the nape of her neck and she winced, drawing in a sharp breath of air.

"Easy now," Joe said, cupping the back of her head in his right palm for support, almost as if she were an infant who hadn't the strength to hold it up on her own.

"What happened?"

"There was a shot and it spooked Wildfire. You fell off when he reared back."

Avonlea squinted and a way off in the distance she could see Wildfire on the horizon. Somewhere during his panic it had registered that his rider was no longer seated atop him, and he had gradually stopped running when no more shots were fired.

"S-someone was shooting at us?" Avonlea asked confusedly.

"No, I don't think so. There's a good deal a huntin' to be done in these parts. A lot a mountain lion around here. Prob'ly just a hunting party. Are you all right?"

"I don't know," she replied. "I have this pain in my back."

"It's prob'ly from hittin' the ground so hard. We need to get back to the Ponderosa and have Doc take a look at ya, just to make sure." He looked over his shoulder at the horse lingering in the distance many yards away from where Avonlea had fallen and gave a short, sharp whistle. Wildfire responded by trotting back, almost as if he were a dog rather than a horse. Avonlea didn't know if this was normal or not, but the sight of Wildfire making his way toward her struck a vein of fear through her body and she grasped Little Joe tightly, pulling her body into his and quivering with fear. Joe looked down at her curiously.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I can't do it, Joe," she said.

"What are ya talkin' about?"

She shook her head and then buried it in his shirt, murmuring, "I can't."

Joe felt his shirt growing damp and knew from the shivering of her shoulders that she was crying. He ran a tender hand through her hair and whispered her name tenderly.

"I'm sorry, Joe," she gulped finally, "but I just can't. I can't get back on him."

"We'll take it slow goin' back."

She shook her head.

"Avonlea, you're not gonna fall off again."

"You can't promise that," she retorted.

"But you know how to ride. You were even beatin' me in that race. I never showed ya how to stay on if a horse bucks like that. There was nothing you could a done."

She shook her head and burrowed it even further into his shirt as Joe merely sat there, at a loss for words as he stared down at the fragile form in his arms. She appeared to him like a skittish child, scared of the dark – of something unknown lurking around every corner, something invisible and in all reality nonexistent. The fear was irrational, but there was no shaking it once it had taken root. He tried to remember the first time he had fallen off a horse. Had he been scared, nervous, hesitant to mount it again? No. All he could remember was a rush of anger and an overwhelming sense of embarrassment. His wounded pride had prompted him to leap right back onto that horse and best it.

But for someone like Avonlea, who had been hesitant to learn to ride in the first place, not eager or excited as he had been, the idea of climbing back onto an animal that had, in a sense, rejected her could be nothing short of terrifying, and he knew that somewhere deep within her she must feel betrayed. After all, she had trusted Wildfire to keep her safe. She had viewed him as a friend, not as the animal he truly was. Joe turned to look at Cochise, standing close by. The two had always been friends, and he knew that the horse would always stand by him, no matter what the terrain or weather. Still, he also knew that Cochise was an animal, and when push came to shove he would always act on his instincts before considering his owner's wellbeing. This was just something he knew as someone who had grown up with animals his whole life. To a rancher it was second nature to accept an animal's loyalty while still acknowledging its own instinct to protect itself first and foremost.

Avonlea looked up into his face suddenly, tears glimmering in her eyes and flowing down her cheeks. They collected at her chin and dripped off onto her sky blue blouse, dotting it with royal blue splotches.

"Oh, Joe, I-" She still couldn't bear to admit her frailty, but her spirit had been slowly chipped away until she felt that it was no bigger than a twig. "I'm frightened."

"I know," he said soothingly, "but you gotta get back on 'im, Avonlea. If you don't, you might never ride again, and you're just too pretty on top a that horse not to ever ride 'im again." He offered her a dazzling smile and she managed a weak smirk in return. Joe brushed her reddening cheek with the tip of his left pointer finger.

"I love riding, Joe, I really love it, but I'm such a coward, just like my father."

"Avonlea, listen to me," Joe said, making sure he had her gaze before continuing, "I didn't know your pa, but I do know one thing – you are no coward, and if you get back on that horse ya won't ever have to worry about bein' scared ever again." He found his feet and pulled her up onto hers. "C'mon."

She clung tightly to his jacket as he led her back to her horse and slowly, carefully helped her mount. It was hard to give her decent support when she was shaking so violently, but finally she sat atop Wildfire again.

"How d'ya feel?" he asked, mounting up as well.

"A-all right," she stammered.

Little Joe grinned. "You're not very convincing. Don't worry, we'll take it slow."

The two walked side by side for a long time as Avonlea became comfortable with the feel of the reins and the steady breathing of the body underneath her own once again. Finally they worked up to a trot, but even though she eased her way into a gallop once, the pain in her back prevented it. The jostling of her body in the saddle, moving up and down with the movement of the horse, was too much for it, and it was nearly three hours time before they made it back to the Ponderosa.

Ben immediately restricted Avonlea to the bed in the guestroom, determined to reduce the amount of strain to her back, and sent Hoss for the doctor. Within the next hour Paul Martin had arrived at the Ponderosa and was giving Avonlea a complete examination. Bill Gillis sat in the main room with the Cartwrights, twiddling his thumbs around the cup of coffee Hop Sing had given him.

"She'll be fine, Bill," Ben assured him.

"She's just such a delicate little thing, like her mother was."

Doc Martin emerged from her room then and the five men in the den stood.

"How is she, Doc?" Bill demanded.

"She'll be fine, Bill. A couple weeks a rest and she should be riding about with Little Joe again." There was a twinkle in his eye as he cast a glance upon the young man who grinned in return.

"See, Bill, what'd I tell ya?" Ben said, all of the remaining concern that dampened his features evaporating instantly.

"Joe, she wants to see you," Doc said.

Little Joe nearly sprinted into the adjoining room.

The other men merely chuckled, and he was fairly certain he heard Adam say, "He's been waitin' to hear that one for a long time, Doc," before he disappeared into her room.

Avonlea was sitting up in bed when he entered, her head resting against the giant headboard behind it. A pattern of wildflowers dotted the blanket that covered body, bringing out the vibrant color of her hair. It had never looked so red as it did in that moment. She smiled upon him benevolently as he entered, as a queen would her humble servant, and as he approached her Little Joe found himself extremely confused. This was such a drastically different picture from the sniveling child had held in his arms a mere four hours ago. Her face beamed with a confidence he had never seen there before, but yet her features were calm and warm like a gentle breeze on a soft summer day.

"How are you feeling, Avonlea?" he asked timidly, drawing nearer.

"I did it, Little Joe," she said, ignoring his question.

"Did what?"

"I conquered my fear," she said.

He smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I never doubted you."

"I did," she said. "But you're right, Joe. I'm not scared anymore. About halfway back I wanted to gallop again, and if it hadn't hurt my back I would have."

He smiled. "I'd give it a week or two before you gallop again."

She returned his gesture then continued. "I want to thank you, Joe. I don't think you realize what you've done for me. I'm not scared anymore, of anything. Nothing's holding me back, not even myself. You see, something's always been holding me back, or rather I've always been letting it hold me back. When my father walked out and never came back I used it as an excuse to fear all men, especially you. You're so handsome and confident and charismatic. It seems every girl in town is lining up for you. I didn't think I could compete with that, at least not for long. I didn't want to trust you, Little Joe. I was afraid. But out there, when Wildfire threw me and you told me that if I ever wanted to ride again I'd have to get right back on him, I knew that wasn't just true for Wildfire. It was true for you too."

During her speech the man had been slowly leaning closer and closer in to her face, and Avonlea now lifted her back from its position against the headboard to meet him, her face mere centimeters away from his.

"Little Joe, I-I've known this for a long time but I just couldn't tell you. I didn't want to admit it to anyone, but I don't want to fight it anymore. I can't fight it anymore. I love you."

Joe didn't say a word, only wrapped his arms gently about her middle and drew her into him, kissing her more sweetly, more gently than he ever had before. And Avonlea, in return, kissed him back without any reservations lingering in the back of her mind this time. It was simply, truly an expression of the words she had just uttered, which were now whirling around and around in her head, creating a sweet, dizzying euphoria about her as the world grew dim, all except for the man who was kissing her now.

_I love you, Joe. I love you_.


	17. Silence

Hey everyone! I'm so sorry it's been so long since I updated - nearly a month! Things have been crazy work wise and I haven't had much time to write. I'm sorry if this chapter is a little slow after the romance of the last one, but it's what I've got right now. Let me know what you think of the turn. You had to know the Cartwright curse would catch up sometime.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 17<strong>

"Bill, I need to speak with you," Paul Martin murmured in the man's ear after a moment of brief celebration.

Bill eyed Paul quizzically but excused himself, leaving the three Cartwrights to toast Avonlea's diagnosis over a glass of brandy while he and the doctor stepped out onto the porch.

"Avonlea's mother didn't die of natural causes, did she?" Doc asked immediately.

Bill shook his head. "She got the consumption. Had it real bad, from what I understand. I was actually plannin' to go back there myself to see her before she went, but I got a letter from Avvie sayin' she'd passed before I could."

Doc nodded. "I was afraid of that."

"What d'ya mean?"

"Consumption's highly contagious, Bill."

"Ya sayin' Avvie's got it?"

"She's a very fragile woman, Bill, and I saw a few premonitory signs. She'll recover from this fall, but I've never known anyone to recover from consumption once they've got it."

"You tellin' me she's gonna die?"

"I'm sorry, Bill, but I don't think it'll be long 'til the disease fully sets in. Once it's got a hold a her there's not much else I can do but try to make her comfortable and stave it off as long as I can."

"Isn't there anythin' you can do now?" Bill asked, his features wrought with desperation.

"There's some medicine I can give her that should prolong the initial onset of the disease for another few months, but once someone's been exposed to it there isn't much any doctor can do." He paused. "I'm sorry, Bill. Would you like me to tell her?"

"Not yet," the man responded, looking up into the doctor's eyes from where his own had drooped to the ground. "She only just started really livin'. I think she deserves to feel what that's like before somethin' takes it away from her again."

* * *

><p>"Avvie?" Bill timidly rapped on his granddaughter's door before entering.<p>

Joe unraveled his arms from around her form and slid several feet down the bed, but he refused to let go of her hand, resting comfortably underneath his on top of the sheets – a declaration of their new relationship.

"Come in!" she called, clearing her throat.

As the older man opened the door and approached her bed, Avonlea's bright countenance dimmed. Her brows furrowed in confusion. What was this sad expression he wore? Surely Doc had told him the good news: that she would recover from the fall in a matter of weeks. There was no permanent injury to her back or ankles or wrists – the three places he had checked thoroughly before replacing his worried face with one more pleasant. Or had he been lying to her? She felt certain that had couldn't have lied, otherwise she wouldn't have accepted his assurance so easily. The pain in her body would have denied his diagnosis. As it was, there only remained a slight soreness in her back, but this she found to be quite normal under the circumstances. So why did Bill Gillis look so worn and pale, and why were his eyes reflecting a sorrow that felt oddly familiar to her?

"How ya feelin'?" he asked, sitting down in a chair Doc Martin had placed beside the bed.

"A little sore, but I'll make it." She chuckled, her eyes darting to Joe's as he returned her smile.

"Your granddaughter's a brave woman, Bill," Joe said approvingly, stroking her hand with his thumb.

She beamed, but one look at her grandfather's face seemed to suck the joy right out of her soul. "What's wrong, Grandpa?"

"Oh, nothin', Avvie, I'm just tired from worryin' so much about ya. I come to tell ya that Doc thinks it'd be a good idea if you stayed here tonight instead a ridin' on the rough roads home. Wouldn't be good for your back."

"Well, I know the Cartwrights will take very good care of me, and I'm sure I won't be able to get rid of Hop Sing. He's already offered me three cups of tea. I might get more rest at home."

Bill's heart ached as he watched Avonlea laughing with Little Joe. It had been so long since he had seen that smile on her face, unmasked by worldly pain and fear. He wondered how long it could last. Once the disease took hold she'd know something was wrong, and it would only be fair for him to tell her then. He didn't want to. He never wanted to tell her that she would be following her mother's path. He didn't want to outlive her. It felt unnatural to him. This wasn't the way life was supposed to be. The young were meant to bury the old, not the other way around. And what about the young man seated beside her, stroking her hand and gazing ardently into her eyes? What would become of him as he watched her deteriorate and fade until she was only a shadow of the woman he loved? The frustration of being so utterly helpless would destroy him, Bill was sure of it. It was already beginning to chew him up inside.

"Joe can drive me home in the morning, Grandpa," Avonlea said.

"I'd be happy to," Joe added with a confirming nod.

"Grandpa, are you sure you're all right?" Avonlea peered into her grandfather's face curiously, trying to decide whether or not she saw tears sparkling in his eyes.

Bill shook his head suddenly and rose to his feet. "I'm fine, Avvie," he said, looking down upon her. Then he bent down and took her face in his hands. "You get plenty a rest, y'hear?"

She nodded.

He kissed her forehead softly, turned on his heel, and walked out of the room.

The happy faces of the three Cartwrights in the main hall faded as Bill exited Avonlea's room. As desperately as he desired to hide his emotions, Bill knew from the reactions he received that he wasn't succeeding, and he was too tired from the shock to care.

"Well, Bill, how is she?" Ben asked jovially, ignoring the man's disheartened countenance.

"Looks fine, Ben," he replied dismissively. "Happy to see Joe." He managed a smile, recalling her bright features and the look in her eyes.

"It's mutual, I'm sure," Adam said.

Ben and Hoss grinned.

"Your granddaughter's a fine woman, Bill," Ben said then, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Bill nodded.

"Ya want a cup a coffee, Bill? Ya look plum tuckered out," Hoss said.

"I think I'm just gonna go on home. Joe said he'd drive her back in the mornin' and I am plum tuckered out at that."

"I'll be out to visit you in the next week or so to check on Avonlea," Doc Martin said as Bill made his way to the door.

He nodded as he placed his hat on his head. "All right, Doc. Thank ya for the hospitality, Ben."

"Think nothing of it. You're welcome on the Ponderosa anytime, Bill, and so is your granddaughter." Ben smirked but Bill didn't return the gesture, only nodded once more and headed out the door.

"Ya think he's all right, Pa?" Hoss asked. It wasn't characteristic of Bill to refuse a cup of coffee before a long ride home.

"Prob'ly just tired from worrying about Avonlea so much."

"Yeah, but there's somethin' else eating at him. He looks worse than he did before he went in to see Avonlea," Adam said, offering his observant two cents.

Paul Martin's eyes darted back and forth from one pondering gaze to the next, debating whether or not to tell them about Avonlea's unavoidable illness. Finally he said, "Well, I may as well tell you, Ben, what with Little Joe chasin' after Avonlea the way he is. I figure you've got as much right to know as her own grandfather. Avonlea is dying."

The silence that permeated the room was unbearable. The three Cartwrights simply stared at the doctor, unable to respond until Hoss said, "How could she be dyin', Doc?"

"Well, her mother died of consumption, which I'm sure you know is highly contagious. From what Bill understands Avonlea acted as her nurse, which would make her more vulnerable than most, tending to her day and night." Paul stopped there and shook his head regretfully. "Examining her just now leads me to believe it won't be long until she starting exhibiting symptoms. She's already much weaker than most young women her age. I just told Bill myself. I don't think he had any idea."

Adam shook his head too. "Burying your daughter, then your granddaughter."

After a long moment, in which all of the men stared at the floor, Hoss looked up, eyes landing on first Adam, then Ben. "What about Little Joe?"

"Don't tell him," Ben said finally, eyes fixed on the closed door of Avonlea's room. "Let them enjoy what they have while they can."


	18. Changing Seasons

So, I assume a good number of you are ready to kill me right about now. LOL. Well, just keep reading. Whether Avonlea lives or dies, I hope you'll all stick with me to the end and enjoy the writing. And now, the next chapter.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 18<strong>

Round about midnight and long after the Cartwrights had bid her goodnight, Avonlea awoke. For a moment she couldn't remember where she was, confused to find herself in a bed so much bigger and two times more elegant than the one in her grandfather's house. Then the memories of the past day came sweeping over her like a freshly washed sheet of fine linen. She remembered falling off of her horse, Joe's strong arms around her waist, his soothing yet firm voice of instruction, and her moment of victory as she conquered her fear. She remembered telling Joe she loved him in the very bed she found herself in now, and she remembered kissing him in a way she never had before. The action was very much the same as it had been before, but this time she had allowed her love to run wild, covering him as well as her. It wasn't a secret; it wasn't bottled up. She wasn't fighting it anymore.

She sighed pleasantly and fell back onto her pillow, but sleep would not come. She was too elated to even think about sleeping, though she knew her body needed it desperately. She threw back the warm sheets and, placing her feet on the chilly floor, shuffled to the door. Her sore back begged her to climb back into the bed, but she defiantly stuck her head into the main room and, in the bright moonlight streaming in through the open windows, spotted Ben's copy of _Moby Dick_ resting on the hearth.

_I'll read until I can fall asleep again_, she decided, creeping into the big room. The floor creaked in several spots on her way to the hearth, but for the most part she was pleased with her soundless journey. However, on her way back to her room she heard footsteps in the kitchen and Hop Sing's stout silhouette appeared against the windows.

"Who there?" he whispered.

"It's me, Hop Sing."

"Missy Avonlea, what you doing out of bed? It very late."

"I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. I thought I'd read Mr. Cartwright's book until I could fall asleep again," she replied.

Hop Sing shook his head. "Doctor say you stay in bed." He took her by the arm and guided her back to bed, tucking the covers up around her neck. He lit the lamp beside her bed, and she smiled back up into his kind face.

"Thank you, Hop Sing," she said.

"I get you something? Hot tea?"

She nodded gracefully. "That sounds lovely, Hop Sing."

The Chinese man nodded in response then disappeared, leaving the door open.

Avonlea settled her head comfortably against the pillows propped up against the headboard and began to read.

"What are you doing up?"

She jerked her head up, startled by the sudden vision of a man standing in the doorway. "Oh, Joe." She laid her book down in her lap as he made his way to her side and sat down on the bed.

"I thought you were supposed to be resting." He shook his head in teasing disapproval.

"I couldn't sleep. And what are you doing up, Little Joe Cartwright?"

He smirked and winked. "I couldn't sleep either, and I thought I heard someone moving around down here. What's this?" He eyed the book in her hands.

"_Moby Dick_. I found it on the hearth and figured I'd read until I fell asleep."

Hop Sing appeared in the doorway then and shook his head censoriously at the youngest Cartwright perched by Avonlea's side.

"Mister Joe, what you doing out of bed? It very late and Hop Sing have no time for this foolishment."

"Oh no, Hop Sing? I don't recall you ever making tea this late at night."

Avonlea giggled.

"I make it for Missy Avonlea," Hop Sing replied firmly, handing the cup and saucer in his hands to the redhead in the bed.

"Well, I think I'd like a cup too, since you're up anyway, Hop Sing," Joe teased.

The flustered expression on the cook's face brought a great grin to Avonlea's lips as she stifled a laugh.

"No time for this foolishment," the man repeated, shaking his head and walking out of the room to pour a second cup of tea.

"I really didn't mean to wake anyone," Avonlea said, turning to Joe once again.

"You're the one who needs to be sleeping," he replied, suddenly serious. He took the book from her hands.

She immediately reached out for it, but he drew back and kept it from her grasp. "Oh, please, Joe, it might help me fall asleep faster, otherwise I might toss and turn the rest of the night."

"Well, if you're that set on it, I'll read to you."

The thought hadn't ever crossed her mind, and she fell back against the pillows, blinking dumbly at the handsome young man before her. "You will?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

She smiled softly and lifted the cup of tea resting on the nightstand to her lips, blowing on it twice before taking a sip.

Joe began to read as she settled back into the pillows and Hop Sing reappeared with a second cup of tea. He smiled to himself as he retreated back to his quarters, closing the door behind him.

The warmth of the tea in her throat, the softness of the sheets surrounding her body, the down pillows that cradled her head, and the low, soothing voice of the man she loved reading to her quickly became a haze to Avonlea as she faded out of consciousness.

Joe looked up from the book after only five pages. Her eyelids were closed, her lashes resting delicately upon her pale cheeks. Her chest rose and fell regularly and her breathing was deep. She was fast asleep. He closed the book and set it upon her nightstand, setting his own cup of tea on top of it. Then he bent over her and kissed her forehead gently, brushing a hand through her bright copper-colored hair. He doused the lamp and retreated from the room, closing the door noiselessly behind him and tiptoeing up the stairs to his own room once again.

* * *

><p>Within two weeks time, Avonlea was back on Wildfire and riding as if nothing had ever shaken her. It was hard for her to even imagine being scared of such a thrilling feeling at one point in her life as she tore across the plains of the Ponderosa with Little Joe. How could this ever have frightened her? She felt completely changed, no longer afraid of pain or uncertainty. She wanted to risk it all, her life and her heart for the one man who had helped her learn that sometimes living was worth the risk – love was worth the risk.<p>

Bill Gillis watched her reluctantly from his window whenever Little Joe would ride up to the house, beckoning her out into the bright sunshine for their daily ride. He was hesitant to let her out of his sight, but knew she deserved this chance to experience all the things she had shut out for so long. She needed Little Joe; he could see that now, and while it filled him with joy it also wracked his heart with sorrow. He battled his own jealousy day and night, resisting the urge to pull her back into the house every time she raced out into the yard to join the young man, and again when she would mount up and they would ride off together. He wanted to spend time with her too—time he never spent with his daughter before she died. Still, maybe the doctor was wrong. Avonlea didn't appear to be growing any weaker. If anything she seemed stronger than she had been before her fall.

But one night in late October, as Bill settled down beside the fire with his pipe and a cup of hot coffee, he suddenly noticed the young woman seated across from him, her face illuminated by the fire's orange glow. Happily knitting a new scarf to put away as a Christmas present for Adam Cartwright, Avonlea was blissfully unaware of what was happening to her outer body. Bill detected the sunken cheeks and the mauve-colored lips with an anguish that spread across his furrowing brow. Her carriage seemed slightly more bent, as if it pained her to sit properly, and she appeared to have lost a great deal of weight. How had he missed this? The answer was obvious: her character has blossomed so rapidly over the past month that it had been impossible for any observer to notice her deteriorating body.

Suddenly the girl coughed and Bill thought it would rattle her entire body. He cringed and turned away, staring into the fire. He couldn't look at her.

"That's a bad cough, Avvie," he said dismissively.

"I went riding with Little Joe the other day without my jacket. I keep forgetting how cold the wind gets in autumn. I suppose I caught a little bit of a cold."

Bill's eyes widened as he turned to look at her. "I don't want you goin' ridin' anymore, y'hear?"

Avonlea was confused. "But why?"

"It's gettin' colder and ya shouldn't be exposin' yourself to the weather. It gets mighty cold around here and I ain't havin' ya gettin' sick, not when there's only one doctor in a hundred miles."

"Grandpa, I'm fine," she protested.

"Fine or no, ya ain't goin' ridin' again 'til the spring, and ya ain't goin' out in the cold neither."

"But Grandpa-"

"Don't argue with me, Avvie. My mind's made up. You've been rompin' all over creation with Little Joe Cartwright for months and I ain't said nary a word, but now I'm puttin' my foot down. I want ya stayin' indoors or pretty soon you'll be as sick as your mother."

Avonlea's eyes widened slightly, startled that he could compare her coughing to her mother's illness. She read the fear in his own expression and felt suddenly unnerved. What she had initially perceived as the overprotective tendencies of her aging grandfather she suddenly began to consider as something more.

"Grandpa, is there something you're not telling me?"

Bill's eyes darted about the room nervously. "What d'ya mean?"

"I don't know; it just seems like you're hiding something from me."

"I don't know where women get such foolish notions. I'm just worried 'bout ya gettin' sick, that's all. You'll catch your death stayin' out in the cold; it's just common sense. If Little Joe wants to see ya, he's welcome here anytime he likes, and I reckon he knows that. And you can drive over to the Ponderosa when the sun's out as long as you're back before it sets. Ya gotta learn to take better care a yourself, child."

"Have it your way," she sighed with a teasing smirk.

Bill grinned satisfactorily and turned back to the fire as she resumed her knitting.

But there was a phrase he had used, one she had heard many times before, often from her own mother when she was very young. It now resounded ominously in the caverns of her mind and she couldn't seem to shake it.

_You'll catch your death_.


	19. Merry Christmas

And, here we are with another chapter. Just a little bit of mush mixed in with the inevitable. Enjoy! Note!

meixel: It's so funny that you should mention "Wildfire" because I've thought about that song several times as I've been writing as well. In fact, I must admit I did name the horse Wildfire after the song. I really like that song. Also, there's a more recent song I heard the other day, and though I'm not really into country my love of Bonanza has warmed me up to select songs. The Band Perry has a song called "If I Die Young" which when I heard it immediately reminded me of my story as well. Just fun facts. LOL. Thank you so much for all your support throughout this story. I'm so glad you're sticking with it and I hope you're enjoying it. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 19<strong>

Winter rushed in with a deep, fast gale, and it seemed as if in the blink of an eye, autumn was over. Several leaves still clung desperately to the trees, but they were few and far between, now gracing the paths of those who walked upon them. Everything seemed dry and brittle and brown, and until the snows came there wouldn't be a landscape worth seeing, especially in the face of the bitter cold. Needless to say, Avonlea was no longer tempted to mount Wildfire, and her daily rides with Little Joe grew fewer and fewer. Bill was glad that it wouldn't be a battle getting her to stay indoors as he had instructed, but no sooner did Avonlea relegate Wildfire to the barn than Little Joe brought out his rig to escort her to and from the Ponderosa. For the first month or so Avonlea obeyed Bill's orders, returning before sundown every evening, but as the days grew shorter and Christmas drew closer, he found her returning later and later with each passing day.

But Bill knew he couldn't offer her the joy she felt at the Ponderosa, for he knew Little Joe wasn't his only competition for her affections. The idea of having a family captivated her. She had lived so long with her only her mother by her side, in addition to a handful of fair-weather friends who came and went as they pleased. The Cartwrights were a strong, warm, inviting family – solid and sound in their beliefs. Ben Cartwright had always provided not merely a house for his sons but a home as well, even in the face of adversity and tragedy. No matter what came their way, the four men always braved their circumstances together. Bill knew his granddaughter loved him very much, but the lure of such a welcoming environment, and the excitement of something so foreign and new, was impossible to resist, and what a fool he would be if he tried to keep her from it, especially if her days were numbered.

Avonlea got the winter she had always imagined, sitting by the fire's glow with Little Joe's arms wrapped about her shoulders. She enjoyed many a game of checkers with Hoss while Adam picked away at his guitar, and sometimes, when the boys were gone, she would even drive over herself to share a cup of tea with Ben. Her body ached more than it had in prior months, and she felt as if it were slowing down in an odd sort of way. Even in the smallest of ways she began to notice a change in herself. She felt exhausted at the end of a fairly uneventful day and found she didn't have the energy to perform simple tasks such as cooking dinner or washing her hair. Her cough hadn't gone away as she thought it would; in fact, it had worsened. She attempted as best she could to stifle it around others, especially her grandfather, but at certain times it was impossible.

On Christmas day, Bill accompanied Avonlea to the Ponderosa to enjoy the warm company and cheer of the holidays. It had been a long time since he'd spent Christmas with anyone, and it seemed the perfect end to a beautiful year. He was even able to forget the impending gloom of his granddaughter's condition as he sat about the fire with a glass of sherry in his hands, singing carols. When it came time for presents, Avonlea presented each of the men with a handmade scarf, as well as a new holster for Little Joe – the one he'd been eyeing for the past three months in Bert's shop. Then Adam presented her with a large box.

"We all chipped in to get this for you, Avonlea," he said.

Removing the lid, Avonlea found a beautiful guitar made of rich mahogany resting on a bed of turquoise silk. The detailed figure of a chestnut mare was carved into the body.

The woman gasped and looked up into the faces of the four Cartwrights smiling softly upon her. She appeared confused by the grand gesture, but their gentle expressions gradually mollified her own.

"It's beautiful," she breathed finally.

"Well, it's meant to be played," Adam said with a chuckle, picking it up out of the box and holding it out to her, resting atop his palms.

"Yeah, why don'cha sing us a song, Avvie? Ya ain't sung for a us in a while," Hoss chimed in.

Avonlea stuck her arm out, somewhat unsteadily, and took the neck of the guitar in her right hand. She ran her left hand over the intricate grooves of the horse before allowing it to rest upon her thigh. She strummed the strings and closed her eyes contentedly at its pure sound, then she began to sing "Away in a Manger." Every eye was fixed upon her, but, unlike before, not a soul joined her. The five men simply soaked in the lovely tone of her voice, soft and sweet.

Halfway through the second verse, a violent spasm of coughs attacked her, and she bent over in pain as her coughing shook her frame. Ben, Adam, and Hoss exchanged bewildered glances; Little Joe merely eyed her worriedly, curiously – oblivious of her medical condition; and Bill's heart squirmed in anguish. None of them knew what to do. Finally, Bill stood and placed his hand on her back as her coughing subsided.

"We're goin' home now," he declared.

Avonlea looked up at him, disconcerted. "I-I'm all right, Grandpa. We can stay a little longer."

"We're goin' home," he repeated, his features firm. "It ain't good for ya to be out so late, tirin' yourself out.

Avonlea looked back at Joe desperately.

He stood instantly. "I'll walk you out."

"Thank you for sharing the holiday with us, Mr. Cartwright," Avonlea said, "and thank you so much for my beautiful guitar." She held the instrument tight into her body. "I've always wanted one of my own, and this is more than I could have ever imagined." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed Adam, Hoss, and Ben in turn, then looked upon Joe with a tenderness so much greater than the rest.

Bill extended his hand to the oldest Cartwright. "Sorry to leave so soon, Ben."

"It's all right, Bill, but I think Little Joe can handle your horses. Why don'cha stay for one more cup a coffee before ya leave? Let the kids have some time to themselves?"

Bill eyed Avonlea warily, but finally consented.

Little Joe took her woolen wrap from the peg in the wall beside the door and placed it delicately around her shoulders, then led her out into the cold night where their breath instantly appeared in the air. When she inhaled it felt sharp and biting, harsh upon her throat, but there was nowhere else she'd rather be than standing right there beside the man she loved, and as he reached down the take her cold hand in his, the heat of his skin electrified her own and filled her with a temporary warmth.

"You stay right here; I'll go get the horses," he said, squeezing her hand and dashing off across the yard and into the barn before she could protest.

Avonlea seated herself in one of the chairs on the porch and watched Joe lead her grandfather's mules out of the barn and hitch the wagon to it. He checked their bridles and patted each confidently with a jovial smile on his lips, pleased with his work. It only took him a matter of minutes and he was back by her side once again, sitting down in the chair next to her own. He scooted closer and enclosed one of her hands in his; the other he brushed across her cheek and into a wisp of her hair that had fallen over her face.

"Are you all right?" he asked delicately.

Avonlea was surprised. "What would ever make you think I'm not?"

"Your grandfather's worried about you."

"I'm the only family he has left, Little Joe. I suppose it's only natural he'd be a bit overprotective."

Joe smirked. "I guess that's it, but you do have a bad cough. Maybe you should have Doc take a look at ya."

"I'm fine, Joe," she assured him with a soft, flippant laugh.

"I won't have you gettin' sick," he told her.

She leaned in to him and whispered, "I won't," before planting a gentle kiss on his lips.

As she drew away, Joe pulled her back, kissing her just as softly. "I have something for you," he said. He dug in his pocket for a moment as Avonlea eyed him curiously until he produced a small wooden box and placed it in her hands.

Inside revealed a beautiful necklace with a great sparkling pendant clearer than Lake Tahoe. There was no denying their worth. Avonlea was sure it was a diamond and couldn't find the words to express her thanks. She simply looked up into Little Joe's face, sputtering dumbly.

"Do you like it?"

"L-l-like it?" She found the question absolutely ridiculous and completely unnecessary. "O-of course I like it! It's beautiful. But, Joe, i-it's too much. It must have cost you a fortune."

He shrugged. "I knew it'd look perfect on you, so I bought it." He reached for the box and pulled the necklace from it. "Let me see it on you."

She turned her back to him as his rough hands draped it across her neckline and fastened it at her nape. When she turned around she could see the moonlight reflecting off of it in Joe's eyes.

"What'd I tell ya? Perfect."

She blushed and turned her face away, coughing into her hand for a moment as Joe simply watched her helplessly, his own face wrought with concern and the pain that can only come from watching another soul in pain.

He placed a tender hand on her back and she turned to look at him again, and just as she thought her was about to ask her if she was all right again, he leaned in and kissed her.

_Don't ask me again, Little Joe_, she thought. _Just kiss me_.

"I love you, Avonlea," he whispered in her ear between kisses.

"Oh, Joe," she breathed as he drew her closer still. She could feel her chest pressed against his own. "I love you so much."

* * *

><p>"Bill, it's no good beating around the bush or pretending that we don't know any longer. Doctor Martin informed us of Avonlea's condition when he was here after her fall," Ben said after the door had closed upon behind his youngest son.<p>

Bill looked at the three Cartwrights somewhat defensively, offended that he hadn't been informed earlier. "He didn't tell me he'd told ya."

"Little Joe doesn't know."

"Neither does Avvie."

"She don't sound too good, Bill," Hoss said.

The man's head dropped toward the floor. "She's dyin'."

"They've gotta know sometime," Adam said.

"I cain't tell her. I just cain't. Could you look into her eyes and tell her she's going to die?" Without warning, tears filled the man's eyes, but he quickly batted them back.

Ben inched closer to his friend and placed a steady hand on his shoulder. "For her sake," he said. "She should be the one to tell my son."

Bill looked up into his face and finally nodded. "I'll tell her when the time's right."


	20. The Truth

Sorry it's taken me a little bit to get this next chapter up. I've been so busy lately it's hard to find time to write. However, I'm about to leave for the beach and I wanted to make sure I left you with a chapter before I left. This one is a little softer with a sweet scene between Avonlea and Hoss. I want to make sure I keep the other three Cartwrights involved, even though the story obviously focuses on Little Joe. I love all my Cartwrights. :) Note!

meixel: I wanted to thank you for the compliment that this story feels like a real episode. That is my intention. :) I want my writing to be as realistic and true to character as it can be. I'm glad I'm succeeding! Usually I end up reading the dialogue I write out loud to make sure it sounds like something Ben or Adam or Hoss or Little Joe would actually say. LOL.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 20<strong>

"Little Joe give that to ya?" Bill indicated the pendant resting upon Avonlea's chest with his head as he slapped the reins and their buggy clambered along the dusty road.

She touched it affectionately and nodded as her face reddened. "Yes."

"It suits ya."

Bill fixed his eyes on the road then and they proceeded on down the road in silence.

"Did you have a merry Christmas, Grandpa?" Avonlea asked finally.

"Best Christmas I've had since your grandmother passed."

Avonlea smiled. "I'm glad."

"I reckon you had a good one yourself." A faint smile spread across Bill's lips despite himself.

"I've never had a Christmas like that before." Avonlea stared wistfully up into the dark sky above which felt like a thick curtain drawn upon the world. As clear as the sky was, she couldn't see a single star. "It's always just me and Mom, and towards the end there it was hard to smile, even on Christmas. Momma would ask me what I wanted for Christmas, and I wouldn't say anything because there was nothing I wanted as much as for her to just get well."

Bill turned away, eyes lined with tears once again. He found it slightly ironic that the anxiety she had felt a year ago she had now obliviously passed onto him. The words he finally choked out were, "Well, I'm glad ya had a good time, child."

* * *

><p>The next two weeks found Avonlea confined to her bed with a miserable cough, and, while she believed it to be the work of too many chilling nights, Bill knew otherwise. He still kicked himself for somehow encouraging the disease by allowing her to sit out in the cold with Little Joe on Christmas night, but deep inside he also knew there was no stopping her consumption. Finally, one night, Bill allowed her to shuffle across the floor and sit by the fire in the rocker that had once belonged to her grandmother. He brewed her a very weak cup of tea with two spoons of sugar and placed it in her hands, and the two enjoyed one of their quiet nights together.<p>

"Tomorrow's New Year's Eve," Avonlea said, breaking the peaceful silence as she took a sip of tea.

Bill looked up from his paper and pipe, cocking a skeptical eyebrow.

"The Cartwrights are hosting a party," she continued.

Bill nodded. "Ben told me 'bout it the other day."

"It sounds like a lovely night, but I don't have a thing to wear."

"You ain't goin'."

"I've been feeling better lately. Besides, I need to get out. I've been cooped up in bed for weeks."

"You need your rest."

"I'm getting too much rest," she said, offering a small chuckle in an unsuccessful attempt to break the tension.

Bill simply looked at his granddaughter, knowing that he had no option but to tell her now. There was no excuse he could divulge that she wouldn't refute except the truth.

"No ya ain't," he muttered finally, diverting his eyes from her curious, somewhat stubborn, gaze.

"Grandpa, what are you talking about? You haven't let me out of your sight since Christmas, not even to see Little Joe. There's something you're not telling me, and I think it's about time I know what it is."

At least she'd set it up for him. If there was ever a moment to tell her, it was now.

He sighed – the longest, drawn out sigh she'd ever heard in her entire life. "You're right." He fixed his eyes upon her then and straightened himself up in his chair. "When ya took that fall off a Wildfire back in September and Doc Martin looked at ya, he told me there was more wrong with ya than just a bit a bruisin'. What your Ma had – consumption – it's very catchy, and there ain't no way you could've taken care a her for so long without catchin' it."

Avonlea's curious expression was transforming into one of horror with every word her grandfather uttered. "Wh-what are you saying, Grandpa?"

"You're very sick, Avonlea. More than sick."

"I'm dying." The words left her lips softly as she turned to stare into the fire, contemplating the reality that she was going to die just the way her mother had.

"That's why I's afraid to let ya out in the cold. Wanna keep ya well as long as I can."

Avonlea shook her head. "I don't want my life to stop like Ma's did." She looked up at Bill. "It was selfish of me to lock her up inside the house when I know she really wanted to out on the porch looking up at the stars one last time, or watching the sunset. She wanted to take one last ride in a carriage and haggle for fruit at the market like she always had. But I was scared of losing her, and I shut her up so I could preserve a life that had long since left her. She wasn't the same woman when she died, not just in body but in soul. In the end I prob'ly only gained her a day or two anyway."

The girl got out of rocking chair and came to sit at the man's feet, placing a tender, white hand on top of his rough, freckled one. She looked up pleadingly into his old eyes, brimming with tears.

"I love you, Grandpa," she said softy. "Thank you for trying to keep me safe and well. But if my time is coming soon, I wanna make the most of the rest of it."

Bill nodded as a tear trickled down his cheek. "Avvie-" He wrapped her trembling hand in his.

"I love you, Grandpa," she repeated, sitting up on her knees and craning her neck to kiss his wrinkled cheek.

* * *

><p>Avonlea Summers went to the Cartwrights' New Year's Eve party in a deep crimson dress and danced every dance with Little Joe, all but four that she reserved for the remaining Cartwright men and her grandfather. She laughed as she never had before during the reels, but when the music grew soft and quiet, flowing into a lilting waltz, that was when she looked into her partners' eyes and felt the strong urge to cry. Moisture collected at the corners of her eyes and she had to bat them away with her lashes. How could she possibly leave the world that had extended such gracious arms to her from the first moment her foot had touched the dusty main street of Virginia City. How could she leave the family who had welcomed her into the love they shared for one another? How could she ever leave the man who had pursued her even when she had shunned him and taught her how to find the courage buried deep within her being?<p>

She'd never asked Bill why he'd kept his knowledge of her eminent death a secret. She knew why. She knew he'd wanted to shelter her from the very thing she was experiencing now: loss. The knowledge that her days were numbered was a heavy burden to bear, and even heavier was the knowledge that she would have to tell Little Joe. She didn't want to tell Little Joe, just as her grandfather hadn't wanted to tell her. She didn't want to witness the look in his eyes when he realized she was going to die, to leave him forever. The bright hope that glistened there now, lost in plans for the future that she knew could never be, filled her heart with such sorrow it was almost unbearable. Almost. She could bear it a little longer yet if it would save him from sharing the horrible pain she felt now. Still, she knew she didn't want to be alone in the end. She didn't want her light to go out without him by her side. She only hoped she wouldn't take his light with her when she went.

* * *

><p>As the weather warmed to hail the emergence of spring and the February snows finally began to melt, uncovering frosted green grass beneath, Avonlea began to improve. Doc Martin knew it couldn't last, but it was to be expected with the changing seasons. Still, she took advantage of her renewed strength, and, while the weather was still too chilly to justify a ride atop Wildfire, she spent most of her time outdoors. One afternoon, when Joe and Adam were out of town on a cattle drive, Hoss took Avonlea for a ride. After about an hour he pulled up by a piece of country abloom with white flowers growing on every tree as far as the eye could see.<p>

"My favorite spot," he announced. He folded his arms behind his head and sat back in his seat with a contented grin spread across his lips.

"Oh, Hoss, it's beautiful," Avonlea breathed.

"Gonna build a house right in the middle of it, down by the water there." He pointed.

"I'm sure it'll be lovely."

"Gonna build a great big barn right over there and giant fence for the horses to graze."

Silence followed before Avonlea said, "Will you take Wildfire?"

Hoss turned to look at her confusedly. "What?"

"When I'm gone," she elaborated softly. "I want him to have all the exercise he had when I was alive. I don't want him to be neglected or forgotten."

Hoss was quiet for a long time. Even though the three Cartwrights knew that Bill had told Avonlea, the topic was rarely discussed. Finally he cleared his throat and managed to croak, "I won't forget about him, Avonlea," before he slapped the reins and they rattled off down the dirt path, away from the beautiful country with blooming white buds hanging on every tree.


	21. The Proposal

Well, here comes the next chapter. I know the story is growing sadder, but I hope you're all still enjoying it. Don't worry, there is hope at the end of the tunnel.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 21<strong>

March turned to April, which then turned to May as it died every year, but Avonlea couldn't believe that a year had passed since that day she had stepped of the stage into Virginia City. Her memories of Maine were now clouded and distant, as if Nevada had been her true home rather than the place she had been born and raised. She wasn't sure if she'd even recognize it if she went back. Only vague thoughts of her hometown remained, and few of them were pleasant: her mother's gaunt cheeks as she grew weaker and weaker after her father left, and then again when she caught consumption; her childhood friends who had each married young and rich and settled in grand mansions along the main thoroughfare; the butcher's shop where Johnny Carson had asked her to the dance only moments before cutting off his thumb with a giant knife. Still, she did remember the flower garden her mother had tended and how the daffodils used to grow right up against the house and brush against her face when she opened her window on cool spring mornings. She remembered her friend Laura's wedding and the way she had blushed a violent shade of red when her husband had kissed her in front of the assembly in the church and then laughed out loud. Looking back, Avonlea determined that she had had a good life, but it wasn't until Virginia City that she had begun to live. In Maine she had merely been an observer of what life could be if she'd let it.

Her violent coughing fits returned as Doctor Martin predicted they would, and when her thoughts weren't calling back visions of her forgotten past, her mind was constantly working on a way to tell Little Joe of her inevitable fate. The rest of the Cartwrights knew, and it wasn't fair that the man she loved should be kept in the dark any longer.

On a sunny afternoon in May, when the cool breeze seemed to counter the blistering heat of the sun, causing a warm, lazy haze to fall upon the great mountains of the Ponderosa, Avonlea led Wildfire out of her grandfather's barn and mounted up for the first time in months. When she urged the horse into a canter and then into a gallop, she felt as if she were fairly flying across the land beneath his hooves. She tore across the prairies to the familiar house she loved so dearly and rapped on the door excitedly.

"Avonlea, how good to see you," Ben said with a bright smile as he welcomed her in. "What brings you here today?"

"It's a lovely day outside, Mr. Cartwright."

Ben craned his neck over her shoulder and grinned. "I see you rode Wildfire over here."

"It had been too long. Is Little Joe here?"

He chuckled then winked. "He's in the barn saddling his horse. I reckon you had the same idea he did."

Avonlea hurried to the barn after offering a simple thank you. Little Joe stood at Cochise's side, adjusting his saddle. He turned when he heard the door open and smiled instantly at Avonlea's figure in the doorway. She wore her lovely navy blouse and mud-colored riding skirt. Her hair was done up in a loose bun and several sprigs of red hair had already fallen astray and now hung delicately about her face. She was thinner than she had been the year before, but it wasn't until now that the young man had noticed.

"You weren't about to ride over to my grandfather's by any chance, Little Joe?" she teased.

"Now how did you guess?"

"Woman's intuition."

"I don't suppose you rode Wildfire over here?"

She grinned. "He's waiting in the yard."

He mounted up then looked down at her. "Well then, Miss Summers, would you like to accompany me on a ride around the Ponderosa?"

"That sounds agreeable, Mr. Cartwright." Avonlea nodded and followed him into the yard where she mounted Wildfire, and the two trotted away from the house before breaking into a gallop.

On the banks of a pond all too familiar they stopped for a rest. Unlike the previous year, Avonlea noticed that she grew tired much sooner and had to pause frequently to catch her breath. To her surprise, Joe had already prepared for their respite, pulling out a blanket and several sandwiches from his saddlebag. She smiled sweetly and took a sip of water from his canteen, and the two sat in the very spot they had a year before, holding hands and eating their lunch.

Presently, Joe fell back against the blanket and spread his legs out in front of him, hands behind his head. He tipped the brim of his hat over his eyes to block out the sun in preparation for a doze when a sudden sprinkling of water landed on his shirt. He sat straight up to find Avonlea kneeling by the water with one hand, which glistened incriminatingly, dangerously close to the surface. He chuckled and stuck his hand in the water, returning the favor.

"Why, Little Joe, that wasn't very gentlemanly," she scolded.

"It wasn't very ladylike of you, either," he retorted.

She smiled wickedly then leaned in to kiss him.

Instantly, Joe wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her body into his as he fell back onto the blanket.

"Avonlea," he said as he twirled a strand of her loose hair around his fingertip, "you're so beautiful – the way your hair lights up in the sun like it's on fire." He kissed her again.

She grasped the brim of his hat and pulled it off of head, laying it in the grass beside them, then proceeded to run a hand through his soft brown hair.

"I wish we could always lay here like this," she whispered.

"I don't see why we can't." Joe took her hands in his and fixed his eyes upon hers determinedly. "Avonlea, there's somethin' I've been meanin' to ask you for a while now; I've just been waiting for the right time and place, but I guess this is as good a time and place as any. In fact, it's prob'ly the best place."

Avonlea knew what he was going to ask, and she also knew that she should stop him now, but she longed to hear the words so badly that she just couldn't bring herself to interrupt him.

"I love you more than I've ever loved anyone, Avonlea. I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world, and the softest. I wanna protect you and care for you and provide for you. I wanna be there when you cry and every time you laugh. You have the sweetest laugh, Avonlea. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I just wanna love you and be with you all my life. I always want you by my side." The expression on his face was so ardent she felt fairly overwhelmed by his love. "Will you marry me?"

Finally she broke his gaze, tears spilling over the rim of her eyes and down her cheeks. "Oh, Joe, please don't ask me that."

He placed his hand under her chin and turned her head back around to face his. "Avonlea, what's wrong?"

"Oh, Joe!" she gasped, burying her face in his chest as her body began to rack violently with uncontrollable sobs.

"Avonlea," he whispered, arms enfolding about her instinctively, though he had no idea what had brought on the wave of tears.

"I, I can't marry you," she mumbled, and the words were muffled against his shirt.

"Are you afraid?" he asked softly.

She shook her head.

"Then what is it?" He pulled her away from his body just far enough to look into her watery eyes.

She shivered then finally managed to utter, "I-I'm dying, Joe."

"What?"

"I have consumption, just like my mother. It's highly contagious, and I tended her for over a year before she died. That's why I've been getting weaker and paler and coughing all the time. I don't know how much longer I have, but it isn't long. So you see, I can't marry you knowing I'm going to die. I won't make you a widower so young, when you have so much more of your life to live."

Joe grasped her shoulders desperately. "How long have you known about this?"

"Since New Year's."

"Why didn't you say something?" The hurt in his eyes cut her to the quick.

"Oh, Joe," she sighed, "how could I? Grandpa knew for several months before he told me. So did your father and brothers. Doc Martin told them."

"And they kept it from me?"

She saw anger beginning to burn beneath the hurt.

"They did it for our own good, Joe. They knew how much it would hurt and wanted to keep the pain from us as long as they could. My grandfather only told me when he knew he couldn't keep it from me any longer. I'm sorry I didn't tell you when I found out. Maybe I shouldn't have held it inside, but I didn't want to hurt you any sooner than you had to."

"Oh, Avonlea," Joe took her hands in his, "you should have told me. I wouldn't have wanted you to go through this alone."

"I'm not now," she said, and he kissed her gently. "I love you with all my heart, Joe, but now you know why I can't marry you."

"Avonlea, I asked you to marry me and I meant it. Your illness doesn't change anything. Whether you live two years or two hundred, I want you to be my wife. I wanna take care of you."

Tears glistened in his eyes now too and he took her in his arms once more as she shook with grief. He still wanted to marry her, even though eminent death lurked in her future. Every moment of their marriage would be filled with uncertainty, and yet he still desired to hold her close for as long as fate permitted him. It would tear him up inside, watching her waste away before his very eyes, and yet…yet he still wanted her, and always would.

Pulling away, she gazed into his eyes to find two tears dripping from them down his cheeks, and whispered, "If you'll have me, Joe."

He kissed her then with all the sweetness of a thousand lifetimes. "I want you for as long as I can have you," he said, and wrapped her in his arms once more, and the two lovers wept together.


	22. Separation

Yes, the story is getting sadder, I'm sorry to say. However, I hope you see the glimmer of hope after this chapter, that and the fact that there are a few mushy moments thrown in here. So, without further ado, here it is.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22<strong>

A small ceremony was held at the Ponderosa within the week. Bill walked his granddaughter down the aisle and placed her hand in Little Joe's. After exchanging their vows, the two became man and wife. Because the amount of time Avonlea had left was uncertain, Ben offered the guest room to the newlyweds, and, although Joe craved a home of their own to present to his wife, the practicality of remaining at the main house won out. So Bill packed up her bags and Avonlea moved onto the Ponderosa. After the wedding there was music and dancing, but when the crowds died down and even Bill had returned to his own abode, Adam and Hoss disappeared upstairs to leave Joe and Avonlea alone by the fire. Ben moved to follow his two older sons, but before he did, he bent over Avonlea and kissed her on the forehead.

"Welcome to the family, Avonlea," he said softly. "I've always wanted a daughter."

"Thank you, Pa," she returned, kissing his cheek. "It feels so good to say that."

"I love hearing it." Ben smiled then proceeded up the stairs.

Avonlea snuggled into the crook in Little Joe's arm and rested her head against his firm chest. Joe propped his feet up on the table, knowing that for once in his life his father wouldn't reprimand him about keeping them off the furniture, and kissed the top of her head sweetly before pulling her in still tighter. Silence filled the open room for a long time until Joe finally felt her eyes upon him and looked down to find her staring up into his face.

He chuckled. "What?"

"I just can't believe that you're mine," she said.

He kissed her softly.

"I feel perfectly happy right now, Joe. Are you happy?"

"Happier than I've ever been in my whole life."

They kissed once more and then proceeded into the bedroom.

* * *

><p>Waking up in Little Joe's arms was the greatest feeling Avonlea had ever experienced. When her eyes fluttered open the next morning, they met his sleeping ones – a soft brown curl drooped in front of them. She brushed it away tenderly and kissed his temple, then his eyebrow, then the tip of his nose. Joe opened his eyes lazily and smiled at his new bride.<p>

"You're beautiful in the morning too," he said, running a hand through her loose locks.

She merely blushed and kissed him good morning.

A knock came on the door and Joe sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes.

"Mister Joe?"

Avonlea looked up at her husband and smirked.

"Come in, Hop Sing!"

The door creaked open slowly to reveal the timid cook with a large tray of food in his hands.

"Mister Ben say to take the happy couple breakfast in bed," he said.

Avonlea brushed the nappy hair out of her face and cupped it behind her ears as she sat up too. Hop Sing made his way into the room and placed the tray on the nightstand beside Little Joe, then shuffled out again without so much as a word. Avonlea smirked; she could tell that he was embarrassed to have disturbed them.

* * *

><p>At times, Avonlea didn't feel as if she were married at all. Hop Sing maintained his role as master of the kitchen, so she was spared that wifely duty, as well as many others on account of her weakening condition. When her husband wasn't doting upon her, the rest of the Cartwrights were all too willing to hover over her like mother hens in his stead. However, it was difficult to begrudge them this when she knew their concern was born solely out of their love for her. She simply had never known this kind of affection before, or the way in which it seemed even to smother her at times. In this house there was always a warm face to greet her and a strong arm to embrace her. Still, she wished she had had the chance to decorate a cottage and make it her own – hers and Little Joe's. She had always pictured a small kitchen with pots and pans hanging against the wall and a large pot bubbling over a cheery fire. There would be a sofa in front of the hearth with a small table that Joe would use to rest his feet on at the end of a long day. The kettle would always be piping and tea always brewing, and there would be muslin curtains hanging over all the windows – burnt orange and gold in the fall, deep red and green in the winter, lavender and orchid in the spring, and sky blue and rosy pink in the summer. She would have selected the material in town herself. But the fire burned just as bright at the Ponderosa, and many nights the family would sit up and sing songs after another of Hop Sing's delicious meals, and soon the only thing she missed was the curtains in the windows.<p>

The time passed much faster than either Avonlea or Little Joe would have liked, and soon the chill of autumn hung in the air once again. Doc Martin paid frequent calls to the Ponderosa as the weather grew cooler and soon confined Avonlea to the house alone. Wildfire was retired to the barn, but regardless of the doctor's instructions the young woman still trekked across the yard to the barn every day, a shawl wrapped about her shoulders, and brushed her horse. But every day her steps grew heavier, and one night, after the doctor's weekly check-up, Paul Martin gathered the family together for a report.

"Avonlea, I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, but it appears as though you're getting steadily worse."

She nodded. "I know, doctor."

"It would be against my better judgment if I didn't advise you, Joe, to have less contact with your wife."

Joe's arm tightened around Avonlea's shoulders and his eyes widened. "What are ya sayin', Doc? I can't be with my wife?"

"Not unless you wanna catch consumption too."

"I don't care."

Ben straightened in his seat and began to protest, but Avonlea cut him short, taking hold of her husband's hands and forcing him to look into her eyes.

"Joe, darling," she said softly, "you must know that I wouldn't ever want anything to keep us apart, but for the sake of our child we must."

"What?"

The room grew instantly silent, save the crackle of the embers in the fireplace.

"I wasn't sure until recently, but Doctor Martin confirmed it. I'm going to have a baby."

"Avonlea." Joe's hands squeezed her own. "Are you sure?"

She nodded with a tender smile. "Quite sure. So you see, when the baby comes it will need you, since I may not have much longer."

"Gee willikers, a baby." Hoss whistled. "Ain't that the darndest thing? I'm gonna be an uncle."

"That should be interesting," Adam said, folding his arms against in chest.

"Well, Paul, what should be do to make Avonlea comfortable until the baby arrives?" Ben asked.

"Well, even though the baby won't arrive for the next few months, and I can't very well expect Avonlea to stay in bed all that time, I must insist that she stay indoors." He turned to Avonlea. "No more going out to the barn to look after your horse. It's getting colder and pretty soon the weather won't only be harming you but your baby as well. You need plenty of nourishment for yourself and your baby to keep up your strength, and you should stay off your feet as much as possible. During the last month I'm going to insist on bed rest, and I'll come out here every day to make sure you stick to it if I have to."

Avonlea grinned despite herself. "Yes, doctor."

"I'll see she sticks to it, Doc," Joe said, wrapping his arms about her waist and pulling her safe into him.

Doc Martin nodded. "I know you will, Joe, but you must keep your distance." He turned to the rest of the family. "Everyone must have as little contact with Avonlea as possible."

The room was somber as the Cartwrights exchanged forlorn glances, accepting the doctor's diagnosis with sorrowful serenity.

* * *

><p>The days passed slowly and dully for Avonlea over the next few months. She spent many consecutive hours in front of the fire, wrapped in a blanket, poring through dozens of books in Ben's large collection. Her cough grew steadily worse, just as Doc Martin had predicted, and the family watched as her health deteriorated while her belly grew. Christmas came and went less cheerily than it had the year before, and many of the gifts the couple received were for Avonlea's unborn child. She and Joe no longer slept in the same bedroom; in fact, she had very little human contact now. And yet on some nights she would still play checkers with Hoss or strum a ballad or two on her guitar with Adam. Bill visited from time to time, always happy to see the bulge in his granddaughter's stomach but disheartened when he heard her raspy cough. Ben kept her company by the fire every once in a while when they would share a cup of tea, but every night without fail Joe sat by her side, regardless of the amount of separation he had endured during the day. Often he read to her until she fell asleep; sometimes he merely sat with his arms about her, but Avonlea refused to allow him to kiss her mouth for fear of hastening the transference of the disease.<p>

One night in mid-January, as Joe was reading the next chapter of _Oliver Twist_ to her, Avonlea had another coughing attack. She held a handkerchief over her mouth, and when she removed it several small spots of blood tainted the white linen.

Joe's eyes widened instantly. "Avonlea, is that blood?"

"It's all right, Joe," she said with a soft smile, touching his hand in assurance.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked firmly.

"A few weeks."

"Avonlea!" He grasped her hands and drew closer to her, his face inching toward hers.

She turned her head away and repeated, "It's all right, Joe."

"Look at me," he said, placing his fingers under her chin and turning her face to look into his own. "You're really dying."

Tears brimming in her eyes, Avonlea nodded.

He drew nearer again and she pulled away. "Don't, Joe."

* * *

><p>The next morning Ben awoke to the sharp sound of splitting wood. He quickly dressed and shoved his feet in his boots, rushing out into the yard to find his youngest son fiercely chopping firewood. The man was shirtless in the bitter cold. Ben shook his head and wrapped his coat tighter about him as he trudged over to him.<p>

"Joe, what are you doing out here?"

The man didn't miss a beat as he replied, "Choppin' some more wood for us, Pa. What's it look like I'm doin'?"

"Joe, it's six in the morning. Sun's barely up. Your brothers are still in bed. Why don'cha come into the house and warm up? Looks like you've cut us plenty of wood already."

Joe continued on as if he hadn't heard a word he'd said.

Ben reached out and placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder, ceasing his work. "Ya wanna talk about it?"

Joe dug his axe into the stump but refused to face his father. "She's dyin', Pa," he said softly, and Ben knew there were tears in his eyes. "She's dyin' and I can't even comfort her." His palms clenched around the handle of the axe. "I can't kiss my wife, Pa." He turned to face his father then, tears streaming shamelessly down his face.

For once in his life, Ben was speechless. He knew there was nothing he could say that would ease the pain his son felt. It was painful enough for _him_ to watch Avonlea die, much less Little Joe.

"I've buried three wives, Joe," he said finally, "and it never got any easier. I still miss your mother, and Hoss's, and Adam's, every day. But they left me my sons, and I see them every day in your faces. You look so much like your mother, Joe, and it's hard for me to keep grieving when I know that, in a way, she's still here." He placed a strong arm around his son. "You'll never be alone, Joe. She'll always be with you. Of course, it's only natural to grieve, and you should, but when that child comes it's gonna need you to be strong. We'll all have to be strong."

Joe looked at his father, the man who had raised him and loved him from the day he was born, and wept on his shoulder.

When they walked back into the house, they found Avonlea sitting by the fire with three cups of steaming coffee. She stood and cast a tender smile upon her husband, whose face was wet with tears, then floated around the arm of the sofa and handed both men a cup of coffee.

"You shouldn't be out this time of year without a shirt on," she said sweetly, removing the blanket from around her body and draping it over Joe's shoulders. "You'll catch cold."

Then she lifted herself up onto her toes and pecked his lips gently.

Joe's eyes widened. He hadn't felt the warmth of her breath mingling with his in two months.

"I love you, Joe," she said softly, leading him to the sofa. "Now drink your coffee."


	23. Anne Marie

So, I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get this next chapter up. I've been insanely busy recently. Shocking, I know. LOL. Well, the story is drawing to a close, but I've got at least one more chapter planned, so don't give up on me yet!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 23<strong>

In mid-February Doc Martin insisted that Avonlea remain in bed until the baby was born. She was weak as it was, with barely any appetite – only eating now for the sake of the child within her. Occasionally she coughed up more blood, but the household knew that blood or no, Avonlea was indeed dying. All of their attempts to assure themselves that she would one day be better dissolved with each passing day. What made it worse was that even in the small amount of time she had left, they were forbidden to see her for fear of catching consumption themselves. Joe was the only one who ignored the doctor's orders, and no one said a word to contradict his actions. They understood his desperation all too well. Avonlea bore her burden with grace and tenderness, praying that she could simply hold on until the baby was born, and that she'd have the strength to deliver it. Though her spirit wished to be out with the family, even if it was only in the main room, her body couldn't budge. She was resigned to her bed with or without Doc Martin's orders, for her body was simply giving out on her.

Hop Sing came and went with food and tea several times a day, drawing back the curtains every morning so she could watch the sun rise a way out over the rolling hills and steep ridges of the Ponderosa. Sometimes Hoss even led Wildfire right up to the window so she could pet his soft, velvety nose. Even though the earth was still a dull brown awaiting the coming of spring, the world was bright and the sun felt warm on her face. She knew the wind must be bitter cold as she watched the Cartwrights coming to and from the house all bundled up in their winter coats lined with wool. Sometimes, if she closed her eyes, she could imagine herself atop Wildfire once again, with the cool breeze rippling through her hair as she urged him on ever faster. But day by day her ability to transcend the pain with her imagination diminished. Still, the color of the world beyond her room calmed and comforted her, and in those last days she was content just to lay there and dream.

"It looked beautiful outside today, Joe," she said one night, her husband by her bedside.

He swallowed. "It was."

"Will you describe it to me?"

"It's startin' to get a little warmer. I rode by the pond I took you to the first day I showed you the Ponderosa."

She smiled softly and closed her eyes.

"You can see little bits of green comin' up along the bank, and there's a bird's nest up in one of the trees. Pretty soon the whole country'll be bursting with life again."

"I'd like to hear the birds sing one more time," Avonlea said softly.

Joe turned his face away from her pale one, eyes filling with tears.

"We haven't picked a name yet," she said finally, opening her eyes.

The tears vanished and Joe merely stared dumbly at her for a moment or two before her words could sink in.

"You're right." He straightened up against the back of his chair in a businesslike manner. "Did you have something in mind?"

She smiled. "As a matter of fact, I did."

"All right."

"I wanted to name her after my mother."

"Her?" Joe cocked an eyebrow skeptically.

"It's going to be a girl."

He chuckled. "Is this your maternal instincts kicking in?"

"I just know it's going to be a girl."

"Far be it for me to question you, but if it's a girl I thought we'd name her after _my_ mother."

"We could do both," she suggested.

"Marie Anne?" Joe made a face.

"What about Anne Marie?" Avonlea suggested.

Joe's face softened as the name settled in. "It's perfect," he said. Then he bent over her and kissed her, long and deep.

She surrendered completely to his lips, his touch, his passion. They had gone so long without any kind of physical affection save his arm about her shoulders and her hands in his – so long she wondered how she could have lived without it.

When he pulled away, kissing her cheek for good measure, tears were dropping from her eyes.

"Joe," she cried, grabbing his hands and squeezing them as hard as she could,"I don't wanna die."

He kissed her again, more gently, and brushed her hair away from her face along with several tears. "It's gonna be all right, Avonlea."

She shook her head violently. "But I don't wanna leave you."

"You never will," he assured her. "I promise." He looked straight into her eyes. "I love you."

"Joe!" She wrapped her arms about his neck and kissed him again, pouring all that was left of her soul into that one action. She had to express to him the love she felt – overwhelming and beautiful. She had to express to him the anguish in her heart that sought to destroy her even before her body did. She had to express to him her desire to always be a part of his life, to always be with him, near him, beside him.

* * *

><p>It was a particularly bitter day in late March when Avonlea felt her first labor pains. The weather had started to warm, melting the frost of winter, but every now and then the wind still blew chillingly cold. The Cartwrights were seated about the fire after a hard day's work when Avonlea screamed for Joe, who came running into the room only to find that his wife's water had broken. Adam mounted his horse immediately and rode for the doctor while Hop Sing began to boil some water. Hoss and Ben brought blankets from the barn while Joe tried to make Avonlea as comfortable as possible, but when Paul Martin arrived an hour later he sent everyone from the room.<p>

"She's _my_ wife," Joe complained, pacing the floor huffily. "I should be with her."

"You ain't no doctor, Joe," Hoss said with a grin.

Joe stopped for a moment and looked at the closed door. "I just can't stand to hear her crying like that."

"It's a natural part of life, Joe," Ben said, coming up behind him and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It'll be over soon."

"Pa's right, Joe. Why don't we all sit down and have a cup a coffee? Unless you'd rather wear a hole in the floor," Adam said.

Joe looked at his brother, who wore a teasing grin on his distinguished features, and finally consented. The four Cartwrights took their seats about the hearth once again and Hop Sing served them each a steaming cup of coffee.

Then the wait began. Avonlea's weak screams from the next room didn't assure many votes of confidence, but there was nothing any of the men could do. There wasn't any conversation; there simply wasn't anything to say. The depth of Joe's concern was written in every line of his furrowed brow. He traced the indentations in the wooden table with his forefinger, taking a sip of coffee every now and then. Hoss took off his boots and began to polish them to pass the time. Adam reached for his guitar to put new strings on it. Ben moved to his desk to review the figures for the next month's payroll. Still, Avonlea groaned from the adjoining room, and in between the men could hear the soft, assuring voice of Doctor Martin, coaxing what little strength she had left out of her.

Finally, early the next morning, just before the dawn, the piercing sound of a child's cry penetrated the rather odd silence that had fallen upon the house. Joe whipped his head around to find his father's face as Ben looked up from the pile of papers on his desk. Adam and Hoss froze. It felt like an eternity until Paul Martin finally emerged. He looked dreadfully tired, yet a gentle smile graced his lips.

Joe rushed to him, but before he could utter a syllable, the doctor nodded. "She's all right, Joe," he said. "Go and see your daughter."

Avonlea lay in the bed with a small bundle of blankets cradled in her arms, yet at first Joe too no notice of it. Her body seemed only the shell of what had once been his wife – pale and wan and emaciated. Her eyes, encircled by mauve-colored rings, seemed sunken into their sockets. Joe's features drooped as he raced to her side. He touched her cold face, robbed of any color it had once had, and was overcome with sorrow.

"Avonlea-"

"You haven't even looked at your daughter yet, Joe," she scolded in a hoarse whisper.

It was then he recognized the sweet smile on her face, and he knew that to her every ounce of the pain had been worth it. He looked down into her arms and pulled back the blanket to see the tiny pink babe within. She was the most beautiful thing his eyes had ever seen. For a moment his breath caught in his throat and he couldn't find any words to express the joy that had instantaneously replaced his sorrow. Tears made their way to the rim of his eyes and soon overflowed down his cheeks. It was only Avonlea's voice that eventually called him back to consciousness.

"Isn't she beautiful?"

"C-can I-"

Avonlea giggled. "You're her father, Joe. Of course you can." And with that she transferred the baby into his hands.

Anne Marie squirmed and opened her eyes but didn't cry, only stared up at her father for a moment before falling back to sleep.

Joe was enraptured by the tiny creature. He was only beginning to comprehend their connection, but every second he held her he was becoming more and more aware of the unconditional love he felt for this mindless, wordless, enchanting being.

Finally, he looked back up at his wife. "She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"I told you another woman would steal your heart one day," Avonlea teased.

He smiled tenderly and placed his right hand over her left one. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm only tired, Joe."

His features looked doubtful.

"We're going to make the most of the time I have," she said decidedly. "As a family."

Joe nodded and kissed her affectionately. "You rest. I'm gonna ride to your grandfather's and tell 'im the news. I'll have Hoss bring in the cradle for Anne Marie."

Avonlea agreed wordlessly, closing the lids over her eyes with a small smile upon her lips. But, just as Joe turned to leave, he felt her cold hand grasping his, and turned around to feel her pulling him toward her and into her body. She kissed him deeply and whispered, "I love you, Joseph Cartwright."

"I love you, Avonlea," he whispered in return, kissed her once more on the forehead, then left the room.


	24. Hope

Well, here we are: the last chapter. I hope you all have enjoyed this story, even though the ending is slightly bleak. We say goodbye to Avonlea, but hope lingers on. Still, I feel this is a perfect way to wrap it all up and very in keeping with the actual series. Had to be true to the show. Anyway, I would greatly appreciate a concluding review from all of my readers, even if you've never left one before, just so I can hear your thoughts on the story as a whole. Thank you so much to my faithful followers of this story! Now, without further ado, the last chapter. One note!

Anna: Don't worry, I know babies aren't mindless. LOL.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 24<strong>

"And one a y'all couldn't a come out here to get me?" was Bill Gillis' first response to the news of his great-granddaughter's birth.

"I'm sorry, Bill, it wasn't really the first thing on my mind," Joe replied.

"Well, I think I have a right to know when my own granddaughter's givin' birth."

"That's why I came to get you. I know Avonlea'd like you to see the baby too."

"How is she, Joe?" Bill asked gruffly.

Joe lowered his gaze and turned his head all in the same motion. "I don't know how much longer she can hold on, Bill," he said.

"Then we're wastin' time standin' around here."

Bill closed the front door behind him without bothering to lock it, hurried to the barn, and within a matter of minutes was riding as fast as the tired legs of his old horse would carry him, just behind Little Joe, back to the Ponderosa. Bursting through the door he found Ben Cartwright seated on the settee, Hoss and Adam on either side, craning over a tiny ball of blankets in the older man's arms. Within was the small, helpless form of his great-granddaughter.

Bill approached the couch cautiously, feeling strangely timid in the presence of this babbling infant. She appeared to him, much as she did to the rest of the men, to be an almost angelic creature. She hadn't had time yet to be flawed or dirtied or jaded. She was a picture of pure innocence in a world where Roy Coffee and Clem Foster were depended upon to guard an often-occupied jailhouse. And yet, gazing into her face as the tiny child was placed into his arms, he sensed something more than simply an overwhelming aura of innocence. He felt, for the first time in a long time, hope. That was what this child was: she was hope.

"You oughta be mighty proud, Bill," Ben said with a knowing smile.

"Ain't been so proud since the day Anne place Avonlea in my hands," Bill replied, beaming. He looked up suddenly. "What d'ya call her, Joe?"

"Anne Marie," he said softly, with an equally soft smile. It was like honey to his lips every time he said her name.

"Well, Pa, ya better get used to bein' called 'grandpa'," Hoss teased, slapping his father on the back jovially.

Ben chuckled and looked up at his son. "Ya know, Hoss, I don't mind one bit."

As the other men laughed, Adam turned to Joe and leaned in close to his ear to murmur, "She's beautiful, Joe."

Joe returned his older brother's smile with a bright one of his own. "Thanks, Adam."

* * *

><p>The saddest thing about the whole affair was that Doc Martin only allowed Avonlea limited access to her child because of her illness. Being as small as she was, Anne Marie was the most susceptible to catching consumption, so aside from her feeding, Avonlea barely spent any time with her. Joe found his wife to be the bravest person in the world. He knew it was breaking her heart to be parted from their child, yet she accepted the doctor's instructions and followed every one of his orders to the letter. She would not risk Anne Marie's health for anything. Instead, she lay in bed and listened to Adam singing her to sleep in the next room, strumming lightly on his guitar strings. In these moments she would smile and gaze out the window at the blossoming world all around her, and gradually she would fall asleep too. She wasn't worried about Anne Marie. She knew she would have the greatest care a child could ask for. All the love anyone could ever want awaited her right there in that house. Adam and Hoss and Little Joe had all grown up without their mothers, yet they wanted for nothing. Ben had been a kind, understanding, loving father – kind but firm. She had no doubts he would teach Joe how to be the same. The only thing her heart ached for was to be a part of the lovely picture she saw in her mind's eye. She wanted to be there too, but she could feel her soul slipping further and further away from her body day after day. It wouldn't be long now.<p>

"Joe," she whispered one afternoon in mid-April, just after Anne Marie had finished eating. The drowsy child rested in her arms, drifting in between waking and sleeping.

"Yes, dear?"

"I, I don't think I'll last the night."

His eyes widened in fear. "What do ya mean?"

"I don't really feel like a part of this world anymore. I'm fading."

"Avonlea-" He grasped her hand desperately, about to protest, but she quieted him.

"I love you, Joe, but as long as I know that I won't be here much longer, I want to say goodbye to everyone. Will you ride for my grandfather?"

Joe kissed her lips and as he pulled away, finding his footing and straightening up, he nodded and said, "I'll get 'im." Then he was gone.

As he stepped out into the main room, Ben looked up from the book in his hands to meet the horror-stricken face of his youngest son.

"Joe, what is it?" he asked immediately, quite nearly jumping out of his chair.

"Avonlea doesn't think she'll last the night." He lifted his eyes from the floor and looked up into his father's face. "She's dying, Pa. She's really dying."

Silence followed. Ben didn't know what to say to console his son, for the truth of the matter was that nothing he could say would provide any amount of comfort. Finally, Joe spoke again.

"I'm riding for Bill. She wants to say goodbye – to all of us."

Ben nodded in understanding. "I'll get Adam and Hoss." And with that the two men exited the house and made their way across the yard to the barn to mount up and ride out.

* * *

><p>Ben's head peeped around the edge of the door as he peered into Avonlea's room after knocking softly. "Avonlea?"<p>

"Ben?"

"It's me, Avonlea." He said with a nod, inching his way over to the seat by her bed.

Avonlea opened her eyes weakly and offered a small smile. "Is my grandfather here?"

"Not yet, but Little Joe's on his way. Adam and Hoss are waiting outside."

"I'm glad I'll get to see everyone one last time," she said.

"You've been such a light to us ever since you set foot on the Ponderosa, Avonlea."

She shook her head. "It's you who have been _my_ light, Ben. You showed me what it is to have a family. Your son taught me how to conquer my fears. If it weren't for you I would never be the woman I have become. I'm so grateful to you, for everything."

Ben took her hand in his and returned the smile on her lips with one of his own. "It wasn't hard to love a sweet, beautiful woman like you." He winked.

Avonlea giggled, then grew somber once again. "I know you'll look after Joe. He's your son. I'm not worried about him. He'll go through the same pain you have, and you'll help him get through it in time. You'll also teach him how to be the father I know he'll become. I only wish I could be here to watch him."

"You will be, Avonlea," Ben assured her, his face resolute.

She smiled. "Goodbye, Ben."

He bent over and kissed her forehead. "This isn't goodbye, Avonlea," he said. "We'll see each other again."

* * *

><p>"Well, look who's here," Hoss declared with a bright smile, opening the door for a small, scraggly dog that bounded into Avonlea's bedroom and hopped right up on the bed. He began licking Avonlea's fingers and then her face excitedly as the big man made his way into the room, followed by his older yet much smaller brother.<p>

Avonlea giggled as she pet the dog. It had been months since she'd seen Rover. He had become quite a companion to the woman during the long hours she spent in the barn, tending to Wildfire. Every now and then she would even brush through the mutt's sandy coat, and nearly once a month Hoss would hold him still while she bathed him.

"He's gonna get dirt all over the bed, Hoss," Adam scolded, reaching for the animal and scooping him up in his arms. Contrary to his stern tone moments before, he pet the dog lovingly before placing him on the floor and shooing him out the door, through the main room, and into the yard.

"He ain't been so dirty since you started livin' here, Avvie," Hoss chuckled as the two men took a seat beside her.

"He'll probably never be as clean again, either," Adam concurred.

Avonlea smiled. "I'm glad you brought him in, Hoss, no matter how dirty the bed is." He tossed a teasing glance in Adam's direction.

"We're sure gonna miss you, Avonlea."

"I'll miss you too, Hoss. You remember what you promised me?"

He nodded. "I wouldn't forget that."

"You're gonna have to teach Anne Marie how to take care of Wildfire when she gets old enough. And Adam, I want you to give her my guitar. Teach her to the play. She'll learn from the best."

"We will, Avonlea," Adam promised, taking her hand in his. "Between the three of us and Pa, she'll probably be the most spoiled child from here to the Mississippi."

Avonlea smiled and closed her eyes. "She'll grow up just right."

"She'll be the purdiest little gal in Nevada," Hoss said.

Avonlea's smile faded as she opened her eyes once more. "Promise me you'll be there for Joe too. He'll need you more than he knows."

"You don't have to worry about Little Joe, Avvie. We'll watch after 'im."

"We always have," Adam added, exchanging a short, knowing glance with his younger brother.

"Thank you so much for welcoming me into your family," Avonlea said, barely above a whisper.

"We should be thanking you, Avonlea. This house has needed a woman's touch for a long time," Adam replied.

"And now it'll have one for a good while longer," Hoss said.

Avonlea's eyes filled with tears and she reached out her other arm to grasp Hoss's hand as well. The two men squeezed her hands affectionately and then stood, kissing her cold cheek before they parted. When they emerged, both were sniffling.

* * *

><p>Bill's entrance was much less traditional. He burst through the door, rushing to his granddaughter's side, and grabbed her hands. He barely noticed the chair at her bedside.<p>

"Avonlea!"

"Hello, Grandpa," she whispered. Her entire body seemed completely a peace.

"Ya cain't be dyin', Avvie." Tears began to run down his cheeks, for knew the harsh reality before him though his words denied it.

"It's all right, Grandpa. It's all right. I'm glad you're here."

"I never got the chance to say goodbye to your ma." He shook his head.

"She never got the chance to say goodbye to Grandma either."

Tears poured down Bill's cheeks.

"Thank you for letting me move out here to live with you. I can't imagine my life anywhere else."

"I'm the lucky one, Avvie. I got the chance to get to know the beautiful woman you've become."

"I love you, Grandpa," Avonlea said, raising herself up from her pillows to kiss the old man's wrinkled cheek. "Look after Anne Marie. It's through knowing you that she'll know me."

Bill nodded and returned her kiss with his own. "I will, Avvie. I love you."

* * *

><p>"Joe." Avonlea's voice was raspy and barely audible. She reached out her hand to hold her husband's, and the man lifted his head from where it had been buried in his hands. He held on tightly in response to her weak grasp.<p>

"Yes, darling?"

"I've always loved you, Joe. Be brave now, not only for Anne Marie, but for me. It hurts me so to see you cry."

He wiped the tears from his eyes but fresh ones formed again instantly, glistening on his lids and dripping down his cheeks to collect at his chin. "I'm not strong enough," he choked.

"You're Little Joe Cartwright," Avonlea said with a simple smile of amusement. "When you're knocked down, you get right back up."

"This isn't a fight, Avonlea. This is your life, and I'm watching it disappear right in front of my eyes. I can't fight that."

"I know," she said. "I know what it's like to watch someone die." She covered his hand with hers. "Don't fight it, Joe. You can't heal when you bottle it up, and I want you to heal." She held his gaze.

"Are you scared?"

"Not of dying." She paused, her own eyes now welling up with tears. "I'm scared of not being with you."

"Avonlea." Joe sidled up beside her on the bed and took her in his arms, kissing her lips softly. "I promised you we'd be together forever and I meant it."

"You're going to be a wonderful father, Joe."

"It'll only be with your help," he said, and kissed her forehead.

"Stay with me, Joe," she whispered, head resting against his chest.

He secured his grip around her shoulders in response.

"I love you," she breathed.

Her eyes closed.

"I love you, Avonlea." He looked down into her face. "Avonlea?"

Her body had gone limp.

Joe buried his head in her auburn tresses and wept.

* * *

><p>The funeral was held the very next day, and Avonlea was laid to rest next to Little Joe's mother. It was a small gathering: only several people from the town, the preacher, the four Cartwright men, Bill Gillis, and Hop Sing. Anne Marie slept soundly through the entire ceremony, nestled in the crook of Adam's right arm. Joe was too overcome with grief to think of caring for the child and Ben too consumed with comforting his son. After the mourners gradually began to return to their own lives, and the preacher himself even departed, Joe drew nearer to the fresh mound of earth under which his wife lay. The headstone simply read, "Avonlea Cartwright – Beloved By All Who Knew Her."<p>

Hop Sing retreated to the buggy to allow the family some privacy as the remaining Cartwrights followed Joe to the graveside. As he passed Bill, standing several yards away, the cook said, "I so sorry, Mr. Gillis. Miss Avonlea a very special lady."

Bill nodded. "Thank you, Hop Sing."

Minutes later, he followed the preacher's rig back into town without a word. He knew there would be plenty of time for hushed condolences and lingering tears between himself and the Cartwrights, but this was not one. Right now he sought solitude, not company.

"I'm sorry, Joe," Ben said to his son after a long moment of silence, a firm hand on his shoulder. "We all loved her very much."

"I know ya did, Pa." Joe gulped back a wave of tears and turned to look at his family. Suddenly his eyes fell on Anne Marie and he reached out his arms to take her from Adam.

The little body squirmed as she was passed from one to another, but finally settled back in her father's arms and slept once more.

He smiled. "She's gonna be just like her mother."

The End


End file.
